


The Morning After

by MissGryffindor



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Weddings, country hotel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGryffindor/pseuds/MissGryffindor
Summary: The Stark and Westerling families gather at the lavish country hotel of Harrenhal to celebrate the marriage of Robb and Jeyne.   They've a packed diary of events to get through and a best man and maid of honour who have to decide what happens the morning after the night before......
Relationships: Arthur Dayne/Lyanna Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Dacey Mormont/Benjen Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Meera Reed/Bran Stark, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling, Roslin Frey/Edmure Tully
Comments: 135
Kudos: 305





	1. Thursday - Jon

When Ellyn Reyne’s drum solo kicked in, Jon was pushed out of a strange dream about dragons and ice monsters and pulled into an equally unfamiliar setting. He recognized neither the walls nor the bedding and it took him a moment to realize he wasn’t hallucinating. _Harrenhal_. The _hotel_. The _wedding_. 

He groaned and rubbed his eyes, wishing he had been able to set his alarm for even an hour later. It had been late when his train had arrived and later still when the cab he’d taken from the station had dropped him at the door. Jon had intended to drive down, but his car wouldn’t start and everyone else he knew that was coming down for the wedding had left a day earlier. Not wanting the hassle of a rental, Jon had booked a last minute train ticket from Winterfell to Harrenhal. One of the Starks would be able to drive him back.

Jon got out of bed and stretched widely. If he stayed in bed too long it would only lead to him falling back asleep and he owed it to Robb to be even a vaguely alert best man. He pulled open the curtains and saw the sun was already high in the sky. It promised to be a scorcher and as little as Jon liked the heat, he knew Jeyne had been hopeful they’d have a warm and sunny weekend. 

By the time he’d brushed his teeth and thrown cold water on his face, Jon saw from his phone that he already had at least one message. 

**_Sansa:_ ** _Hope I’m not waking you up. Just wanted to remind you that breakfast is only on for another half hour. If you want, I could bring you up some croissants or a breakfast muffin? I’ve been making a couple of lists for what we need to do today – let me know when you’re free to go through them. I swear, if I ever get married, I am NOT having a wedding as big as this one!_

Jon chuckled. 

Sansa worked for her father, a judge, as his PA and needed to be organized for a living. Jon knew she’d put just as much effort into making this wedding the event Robb and Jeyne wanted it to be as the happy couple themselves. Likely Mrs. Westerling would take the bulk of the credit for everything that went smoothly (while blaming Sansa for anything that went wrong) but Jon knew Sansa was the real star of the show. Sister to the groom and maid of honour. Also the reason Jon had managed to keep on top of his best man duties and remain sane during the organization process. 

He pulled on a clean pair of black jeans and a grey t-shirt and grabbed a few necessities, before heading down to breakfast. A quick text to Sansa from the elevator meant that he was met at a table just inside the dining room door by a wide grin and a full hot breakfast from the grill. 

“You, Sansa Stark, are an angel”, Jon informed her as she poured him a glass of orange juice from the large jug on the table. He could see the remnants of her own breakfast in front of her. 

“I hope you’ll still think so when I’ve gone through our to-do list for today.”

Jon groaned through a mouthful of scrambled egg. “Can I have my breakfast first? The dinner I had on the train last night was beyond awful.”

“Well, if you’d listened to Arya and got Gendry to check out your car when it started making that strange noise……”

“I’m not giving your sister a chance to say _I told you so_.”

“Well, she kind of did.”

“I know.” But one did not concede victory to Arya Stark – not easily, in any case. “Where is everyone else?”

“My parents have been up for ages and have gone for a walk, most likely because it would be the last thing Mrs. Westerling would do, and everyone else is either still asleep or breakfasting in bed.”

While he scarfed down the rest of his breakfast, Sansa caught Jon up on the little he’d missed the day before – mostly tension on both sides of the family. Sansa’s aunt (who hadn’t even arrived yet) had been widowed two years earlier and had remarried a mere three weeks later, to a man she’d known since childhood. Jon and Robb were convinced _Uncle_ Petyr was in love with both Catelyn and Sansa, and Ned had a tendency to glare at the man incessantly. Jeyne’s uncle, Rolph, on the other hand, had recently come into some money and delighted in boasting about it – to the mortification of her father, his brother-in-law.

“I’m your date this weekend. That makes me your shield against the creep your aunt married. If he asks you to dance, just say you already accepted my offer.” It had been more to avoid being dateless or bringing a near stranger as a plus one that had led Jon and Sansa to partner each other for the weekend than anything else. Thinking back, he couldn’t quite recall which one of them had suggested it. They’d spent so much time together over the last year – helping Robb and Jeyne – that it seemed natural to buddy up.

When Jon moved back to Winterfell to teach next semester, he hoped to see more of Sansa. She’d become a good friend of late.

He pushed his empty plate away. “Thank you again for getting that for me. So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“We’re meeting with the events co-ordinator, Shella, at ten thirty – along with Robb and Jeyne, of course – to discuss the final arrangements for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself. You’ll be pleased to hear that I recommended Mrs. Westerling make an appointment with Daario the massage man. Apparently he has rave reviews and could fit her in just before eleven. She will, sadly, be unable to attend the appointment with us.”

“Sansa, you’re a genius.”

“I’ve got game. I’m hopeful the meeting won’t last any longer than an hour. Less if we’re lucky. After lunch, we’re all going out for a walk around the grounds with the photographer to decide where the best spot for pictures is. The parents will be around for that, so…..fair warning. I’ve arranged for a sit-down meal for the joint bachelor/bachelorette party tonight so we can all line our stomachs properly.”

“It feels weird calling it that.” They’d had parties already, around a fortnight earlier, but not all of Robb and Jeyne’s friends lived in Winterfell and so Sansa had suggested this as a way of them being able to spend time with the wedding guests their age without the formality of the rehearsal dinner planned for the following evening.

“I know, but pre-wedding booze-up didn’t look so hot on the wedding itinerary I had to pull together.”

“You are NOT to tell your mother this – and I will flat out deny it if you do – but, although she was disappointed and a little bit mad about it at the time, by the end of this weekend I think she _might_ be okay with the fact that Arya and Gendry eloped during a drunken trip to Moat Cailin with only their hotelier and his wife to serve as witnesses.”

“I won’t tell. And I sort of agree. She won’t be _as disappointed_ in any case.” It had been three months since Arya and Gendry had returned from their weekend away. While Arya had never really been a young girl who spent half her life planning a wedding to an imaginary groom, Jon didn’t doubt that the planning for Robb’s had decided her against such an event for herself.

It had been fifteen months since Robb had proposed and since Jon, back in Winterfell for Easter break, had joined the planning committee. As a history teacher, he knew that large-scale inter-continental invasions had been planned in shorter timeframes. Two things had got him through it – his love for his best friend and the sanity saver that was Sansa Stark. 

“You know, if you ever wanted a career change, wedding planning would be lucky to have you.” Sansa snorted. “No, I mean it. Seriously, San. Everything I’ve had to do has been done, and on time, because of you.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“Right, I suppose we best get started. We’ve half an hour before the meeting with the events person – you want some fresh air?”

-

“How did you get on with the viewings yesterday?” Sansa asked as they walked down the pathway, away from the hotel building. The grounds around Harrenhal were extensive and beautiful. Thankfully, given the humidity of a Southron summer, they were also well shaded.

“A couple of possibilities. Really my main problem is trying to decide whether I want a house that needs some work doing to it, and comes with a garden, or an apartment I don’t really need to do anything to”, Jon admitted. He’d seen a few of both scenarios on the tour he’d taken with a realtor named Palla. An apartment he could simply move into would be more practical, but a property he could add value to was perhaps the sounder financial choice. The viewings had been the reason for his delay in coming down to Harrenhal.

“Wherever you choose, you’ll have all summer to get settled.”

“Hmmm.” The summer holidays would last seven weeks, but the first one had been centred on Robb’s wedding. Plus as the new deputy in the Winterfell High History department, Jon would need to return to work a good couple of weeks earlier than his new students. He wanted to get a feel for the place as a teacher rather than a student and to get an idea of where his new students were at from his superior, Jeor Mormont.

“You looking forward to starting the new job?”

“I am. I loved working at Queenscrown High, don’t get me wrong, there was a wildness to the country up there that I loved. But I wanted to move home.” Four years in White Harbour for under-grad and a fifth for his teacher training, followed by four in Queenscrown. 

It had been nine years since he left Winterfell and Jon couldn’t wait to move back. It would be _different_ , his mother having moved to Dorne after her marriage to Arthur a couple of months before he completed his teaching qualification, but Winterfell would always be home to Jon. He was sorry she couldn’t make the wedding, but Arthur’s sister Allyria was getting married the same day as Robb and so she’d had to decline the invitation. Jon hoped to visit her later in the summer.

“I know what you mean.” Sansa had studied in King’s Landing for a year before transferring back to the North and White Harbour University, where she had met Jeyne. “There’s nowhere quite like home.” 

“Robb mentioned your roommate moved out.”

“Alys? Yes, she moved in with her boyfriend. I had seen it coming for a while. She practically lived with Sigorn in any case. I’m trying to decide whether to find a new roommate or continue on my own. I could use the second bedroom as an office.”

“You get used to it easily, I have to admit. Or at least I did. But, then, you’re far more sociable than I am, San.”

“That doesn’t mean I dislike peace and quiet. After years of living with Arya and Rickon, for example, walking into my apartment and hearing absolutely _nothing_ can be blissful after a long and busy day at work.”

“True.” 

Jon thought back again to the viewings he’d had. Really, it had come down to two very different properties – a downtown apartment in an old building that had recently been renovated, with high ceilings and almost floor to ceiling windows, and a cottage on the edge of town that could be cleaned up as a two-bed now but had the potential for renovation into the attic area or down into the basement. There was even room out back to add on an extension. The last owner had been an elderly man who’d passed away and the family had elected to sell rather than take on the cottage themselves.

If Robb and Jeyne hadn’t been headed for a fortnight’s honeymoon in the Summer Isles come Monday, Jon would’ve asked them to come to a second viewing with him. 

“Sansa?” Jon had a sudden thought.

“Hmm?”

“Would it be out of line for me to take up one of your evenings early next week and ask for a second opinion on a couple of places I liked the look of?” He was staying with Arya and Gendry for a few nights either side of the wedding but felt this was more Sansa’s area of interest than her sister’s.

“If you’re not sick of me by then, yes, I will help you with your house search.”

Jon chuckled. “Thanks.” There was absolutely no way he could see himself getting sick of Sansa. They had reached the edge of the lake and Jon could see in the distance a small wooden pier of sorts, next to a ridge, where people were getting set up for rowing and canoeing. “Is that on our itinerary?” he asked Sansa, pointing over. 

“Nothing that can cause injury to a member of the bridal party is on the itinerary. I suppose Theon will come out here at some point, though. He’s always enjoyed water sports. Thankfully there isn’t a jet-ski for him to hurt himself on.”

Theon was, however, exactly the type to try and encourage a mass skinny-dipping. Jon didn’t want to worry Sansa with the prospect of that so he asked about her plans for a holiday. 

“I have this week off work and a couple of days next week.”

“I mean an actual holiday, Sans. One that doesn’t involve planning a large wedding. The happy couple get a fortnight in the Summer Isles to relax after the big day – you should have something too.”

“Alys and I were talking about a long weekend or perhaps even a week at the end of summer. We were thinking maybe the Arbor, but she and Sigorn want to take a skiing trip in the winter, up in the Frostfangs, and it can get pretty expensive.” Sansa bit her lip and paused. “I’m not absolutely certain, but given the meticulous planning he’s put into it _and_ them moving in together, I think perhaps he might be using it as an opportunity to propose.”

“You should get away somewhere, even if you just go for a few days.” Jon didn’t doubt her work for Ned was pretty full-on and Sansa had spent the last fifteen months helping to plan the carnival that was Robb and Jeyne’s wedding.

“And are _you_ taking a holiday?”

“Haven’t you heard Arya on this before? Apparently I get too many holidays.”

“Arya is jealous.”

“Perhaps.” Jon glanced at his watch. “We should head back up if we’re going to make this meeting.”

-

“If you wish, we can have a board placed outside the ballroom with a detailed order of events for both the rehearsal dinner and the wedding day”, Shella suggested, checking something on her tablet. Jon remembered her from a trip he’d taken back in February with Robb, Jeyne and Sansa to go through some of the arrangements in person. “We do so from time to time. Having an itinerary visible on the day also helps direct guests as to where they need to be and when.” 

Jeyne turned to Robb. “That sounds good, don’t you think?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Well, I think it would be good for people to see who is going to speak and when. And on Saturday it will help any of our guests who need some reassurance about where to go.”

“Okay.”

Sansa had her own tablet out and was taking notes. “So, if we could have an order of play for both, then, Shella. And if the Saturday one could be more detailed, with where events are taking place and when. I sent a short note to everyone who RSVP’d, but that was a couple of months back. And we decided that the table placings would be laid out just inside the door tomorrow night and again on Saturday.”

“We did, Miss Stark, yes. Do you have any last minute changes on numbers?”

“We don’t, no.”

Jeyne winced. “Actually we do. A couple of my mother’s Spicer cousins won’t be able to make it after all. Cousin Anise has a friend who asked her to be a birthing partner, and she called my mother this morning to say the woman’s going to be induced tomorrow morning. And Cicely thought she’d cancelled weeks ago but it’s possible someone just forgot to pass on the message.”

Jon looked at Sansa. “We’ll see what we can do with the seating.” What _Sansa_ could do with the seating, most likely, but Jon knew some of Robb’s friends that Sansa did not and often a small change to seating arrangements led to larger ones. He’d learned that more than once over the last few months. 

Arya and Gendry had _definitely_ had the right idea. 

“Well, I think that is us”, Sansa beamed. “Shella, I think you’re joining us this afternoon for the photography meeting?”

“I will be. We have a number of places on the grounds our couples regularly select and we’ll take you round a few of them.”

“Good, good. I’ve e-mailed you a draft outline for what we should put on the boards. Jeyne and Robb, I’ve copied you into it. You too, Jon. Let me know if you want to make any changes to the order of speeches. I know we discussed it the other week, but I wasn’t sure if you’d changed your minds since then. You’ve both been so busy.”

 _You’ve been very busy as well_ , Jon thought. He had been serious in his suggestion that Sansa should go into wedding planning. Her organisational skills were meticulous, she had the patience of several saints and she covered every little detail. That reminded him of something he wanted to suggest to Jeyne. It would likely irritate Mrs. Westerling but Jon cared more about Sansa than her.

Jon loaded his e-mail app and looked at the list Sansa had been working on during their conversation. It set out the order of speeches for the following evening and a full, detailed outline of the wedding day celebrations from the heart tree ceremony to the one in the sept right through to the evening party. 

“I think this is fine. Thank you, Sansa”, said Robb, looking up. “You got your speech ready?”

“I’ve…..been working on it”, Jon replied. He had notes on the bones of it but still had a couple of details to work out. He’d decided to avoid the worst stories he could tell about Robb. Mostly because he didn’t come out of them so hot either. 

The four of them left Shella to it. Jon hoped the Stark/Westerling wedding never ended up on her mental list of horrors that would, inevitably, be recalled at the annual Christmas party. Shella’s office was on the ground floor, not too far from the reception desk. As it was late morning, there were large groups of people checking out and housekeeping staff could be seen in the distance with fresh piles of sheets and towels. 

Jeyne looped her arm through Sansa’s. “Please tell me you have nothing planned for tomorrow morning, after breakfast.”

“Just a check in with Shella – hopefully a quick one – but really the only thing we need to do tomorrow is a final check on the dresses. Why?”

“I booked us in at the spa. It will be my treat. I used my best bridezilla impression to score us a couple of cancellations with one of the masseuses, Meris, and then we’re having manicures and pedicures and going for a dip in the hot tub. And champagne.”

Sansa laughed. “That sounds………pretty amazing, actually.”

“If there’s anything that needs sorted tomorrow morning, Robb and I will see to it”, Jon promised. _While trying our best to avoid Jeyne’s mother_. 

Part of the advantage of Robb and Jeyne getting married this far from home was that so much of the work was done before they reached Harrenhal. Rings and tuxedos and dresses had all been picked up. They had only to check up on the arrangements with the venue staff and greet guests when they arrived – and that was staggered. The Starks and Westerlings had descended on the hotel on Tuesday, Jon and a few others the following day, and the remainder would arrive later on today or tomorrow. 

“Sansa! Sansa! Robb!” Jon turned to see a small, red-headed girl running over to see them. She was swiftly followed by Catelyn’s brother Edmure, removing Jon’s confusion – he hadn’t seen Bethany for a couple of years.

“How are you?” Sansa asked. Jon took her binder and tablet so Sansa could lift her small cousin up and rest the little girl on her hip. He bit his tongue at the realisation they could very easily pass for mother and daughter. “Are you excited about being a flower girl?”

“I am”, Bethany nodded. “Mama and me have been doing the flower petals!”

“Wow. Good for you, Bethany”, said Jeyne.

Edmure shook Robb’s hand and then took his daughter from Sansa, kissing her on the cheek. “How are you all getting on? No threats to anyone’s life yet?”

“Not yet”, Robb told his uncle. He raised a hand and waved over to the reception desk, where Jon could see Edmure’s wife, Roslin, with their other three children. Their twins, Olyvar and Hoster, were in their stroller, fast asleep, along with baby Brynden, while Roslin spoke to the young man on reception. 

“I had a call from Uncle Brynden just before we left. He and dad should be here mid-afternoon. Hopefully they’ll still be on speaking terms when they arrive. Is Lysa here yet?”

“They’re coming tomorrow”, said Sansa. “Robin’s had a cold, so she wanted to give him an extra day before they travelled. She didn’t want it turning into pneumonia.”

“ _Pneumonia_.” Edmure snorted and shook his head. “Robin’s only health issue is his epilepsy and that new medication Dr. Colemon put him on has massively improved things. Lysa overreacts.” There were times when Jon was relieved he didn’t have Robb’s massive extended family.

“There’s a play area for the kids in the grounds – they’ll have a map at reception – if you’re looking for something to do with them this afternoon”, Sansa told her uncle, tactfully changing the subject. 

“Great. I’ll let your mother know we’re here and maybe see her at lunch.”

“We’ll need Beth tomorrow afternoon for a final fitting”, she added. She looked over at where Roslin was checking in and furrowed her brow. Jon wasn’t sure what she was looking at.

“Come on, Bethy-boo, let’s get back to your mother and brothers.”

“That’s going to be an issue when Lysa gets here”, Sansa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What?” Jeyne seemed as confused as Jon. “Bethany being in the wedding? But surely she knew that?”

“She does. I know Lysa wasn’t happy about Robin not being an usher. Then she spent fifteen minutes telling me why he would’ve been too frail for it. No, I meant the fact that Roslin is quite clearly pregnant again. Beth is only five, the twins are three and Brynden turned one a fortnight ago.”

“Surely Lysa would be pleased at the prospect of another niece or nephew”, said Jeyne.

“Lysa will lecture Edmure about the virtues of birth control”, Robb told her. “I remember her doing the same with my parents when Rickon was born.” He took Jeyne’s hand and they started off in the direction of the elevator. “We’ll see you two at lunch.”

“Bye, Robb”, Sansa told her brother absently. “Ah, there.” She held out her hands for the binder and tablet and Jon gave them back to her. “What are your plans before lunch?”

“Would you judge me if I said a nap?” Sansa laughed. “I want to make sure Theon doesn’t get pictures of me falling asleep in my dinner tonight.”

“Alright. I’m going to put these back upstairs and then check in with Arya. See you at lunch, Jon.”

-

Jon buttoned up his dark grey shirt and double checked the time again. By his estimation, he had around fifteen minutes until he was expected downstairs in the small function room Sansa had booked for tonight. While the rehearsal dinner would incorporate all guests who could make it, tonight was about Robb, Jeyne and their friends. There would be a decidedly younger crowd gathering and Jon thought it likely many of them would wake up with sore heads the following morning. 

One person’s presence Jon was glad to be lacking was Mrs. Westerling’s. She had passed comment – negatively without exception – at just about every location Shella and the hotel photographer, Pia, showed them that afternoon. Towards the end it had been clear that even Sansa’s patience was wearing thin. Robb and Jeyne seemed happy enough with the idea Pia had put forward of photographs beside the heart tree and outside the sept to follow each ceremony, and a beautiful shaded grove for additional ones.

He’d had time after for a quick call to his mother to check in. She was out picking up the dress for her good sister’s wedding on Saturday. A seamstress had been adjusting it for her, embroidering some blue roses around the edges. Thoughts of that recalled another discussion he’d had earlier in the afternoon about blue roses. It wouldn’t be mentioned in the official itinerary for the reception, but Jon had suggested Jeyne and Robb present Sansa with a bouquet of them (they were her favourite flower as they were his mother’s and that of most Northern women) after the speeches in recognition of how much of the work she’d done for them.

Jon placed his room card in his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket. Finally, he grabbed his phone and went downstairs. Predictably, Sansa was already down. When he walked into the ballroom, he saw her on the other side of the room talking to one of the waiting staff. Her hair was tied up in some kind of braid and she wore a blue dress that Jon could tell perfectly matched the shade of her eyes. 

He knew, objectively, that Sansa was attractive. Beautiful. Stunning. They might not have connected as children, and not really got to know each other until the year they crossed over at WHU, or even become good friends until the twelve months or so, but Jon had always known that Sansa had most definitely _not_ fallen out of the ugly tree. Tonight, though, even from the other side of the room Jon could tell there was something different about her. An ethereal, other worldly beauty that began with her smile. 

Sansa looked over and waved at him. She said something to the girl she was talking to and came over to Jon. Nobody else seemed to have made it down as yet, other than a small group of people he didn’t recognize and assumed were friends or relations of Jeyne’s. 

“Do you own anything in bright colours?” Sansa asked, grinning.

“I’m wearing a white shirt with my tux on Saturday.” Jon conceded her point, though. “I like your dress. It really suits you.”

“I actually bought it for Beth Cassel’s wedding last summer. They broke things off three weeks before the wedding and I decided I liked the dress too much to return it.” Sansa sighed. “I’ve just been trying to convince the girl in charge of the waiting staff that it isn’t unlucky to have the top table set for thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” Jon mentally added Robb and Jeyne’s siblings and their partners – plus himself. “Wow. It is, isn’t it? I would say it is only unlucky if we let it be. The only real alternative is letting Theon join us and he’ll spend the entire night hitting on Jeyne’s sister or trying to get Rickon drunk.”

“Or both.”

“Or both”, Jon agreed. Yes, knowing Theon _both_ was most likely. “How many people are there altogether, again?” He really should be paying more attention to the specifics like Sansa was. 

“Well, in addition to our table, there’s another thirty. Five tables of six. That is just for the meal, though. Once we’ve finished eating and the bar opens up then they’ll split our table up into smaller ones. Jeyne and Robb decided against anything more than background music so no dancing tonight.”

“Nothing that can lead to injuries, right?” Jon recalled their walk after breakfast. Sansa laughed. 

“Right.”

Jon looked over at the table next to him, just inside the doorway, filled with glasses of champagne. Jeyne’s family had spared no expense for this wedding – as her mother had been at pains to remind Shella and Pia when they were on their photography recon that afternoon – and in any setting other than one of the largest country houses in Westeros it may have seemed gaudy, but Jon ignored all of that and handed a glass to Sansa, taking one for himself. 

“To Robb and Jeyne”, he said. “And to us, their long-suffering bridal party. May we all survive the coming days.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Sansa raised her glass and tapped it lightly against Jon’s. He took a long sip and felt the bubbles tickle his throat on the way down. 

-

It did not take long for everyone else to appear. Aside from Robb and Jeyne’s families, there were a number of people Jon recognised from Winterfell High and WHU, and from nights out in Winterfell when he’d been on vacation from Queenscrown. The rest were presumably predominantly Jeyne’s friends and relations from the Westerlands. 

There were balloons and streamers around the ballroom – though sparingly – in Robb and Jeyne’s wedding colours. It was casual rather than stuffy and the menu reflected that. Sansa told him she’d approved a contracted version of the menu available in the main hotel restaurant (taking into account Bran and Meera’s veganism, of course) and once he’d placed his order it occurred to Jon just how hungry he was. 

After his tomato bruschetta, Jon turned his attention – in his role as best man – to Rickon. He was sat opposite Robb and Jeyne, next to Sansa, with the youngest Stark sibling on his other side. Taking Sansa’s concerns into account, Jon reminded Rickon to slow down.

“Why? I thought this was meant to be a party?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “It is. But, I’d guess that you’d like to see the end of it. And you won’t if you keep drinking at the rate you are now. You’re seventeen, Rickon, and technically not of drinking age for another few months.” Jon raised a hand. “I’m sure you drink vodka or beers with your mates on weekends but this isn’t Wolfswood Park.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I was a seventeen year old in Winterfell once.” _Once_. It had been ten years earlier though at times it felt like a lifetime ago.

“And now you’re an old man.” Rickon sighed in mock dismay. Jon nudged him. 

“Enough of that. Hey, did Robb tell you I ordered my season ticket online? The fixture list will be released in a couple of weeks.” Jon had loved hockey since he’d been five years old and moving back to Winterfell meant he could watch his beloved _Wolves_ on a more regular basis.

“He mentioned it. Still a Wolves fan then? They didn’t convert you to the _Towers_ in Queenscrown?”

“They tried and failed. Miserably.” Val had taken him to a couple of matches early on in their relationship, but he had resolutely refused to support any team other than the _Wolves_. Just as he’d never warmed to the _Mermen_ when he was a student in White Harbour. “When does your season start? Robb said you were made captain?”

“Three weeks after school goes back.” Something seemed to occur to Rickon. “Do I have to call you _Mr. Snow_ now?”

“Only at school. And I expect you to work in my class, if you’re in it”, Jon chuckled. He took a good sip of the red wine he’d switched to after his first glass of champagne. “I don’t have my class schedule yet. Don’t worry. You don’t have to treat me any different outside of school.”

“Good.”

Jon was pleased to see the return of the waiting staff with fresh, full plates and his mouth watered at the sight of the steak and creamy mashed potatoes he’d ordered. He had determinedly avoided anything with a sauce and he wasn’t a fan of the elaborate fish dishes that were commonplace in the Riverlands. He had always enjoyed plain, Northern fare.

“Thanks for that”, Sansa told him in a low voice, indicating Rickon who was alternating between large mouthfuls of spaghetti and meatballs and a conversation with Bran (who sat on his other side) about whether they could get away with going off to the local town the following afternoon. 

“What?”

“If I’d tried to stop Rickon drinking too much like that, he would not have reacted in the same way.”

“All I did was talk hockey.”

“How’s your steak?”

“Medium rare. Just the way I like it.” Jon looked at the chicken Sansa had ordered. It came with some sort of creamy sauce, mashed potatoes and asparagus. If there was anyone in the room who ate daintily enough to avoid getting their outfit covered in sauce it was Sansa. “How’s your chicken?”

“Just the way I like it”, Sansa parroted with a grin. She moaned and Jon felt something wash over him at the sound of it. “So, so good.”

“Did your grandfather get here?”

Sansa nodded. “He and Great-uncle Brynden arrived a little after four, bickering away as usual.”

“What was it this time?”

“Great-uncle Brynden was driving and didn’t take too well to grandpa trying to give him directions. I’m sorry Lyanna couldn’t be here this weekend. I haven’t seen her in so long.” Sansa frowned. “Not since you graduated at the end of teacher training, I don’t think. That can’t be right?”

“No, it will be.” His mother and Arthur had moved to Dorne at Easter, right after their wedding, and flown all the way back north to White Harbour less than twelve weeks later to attend his graduation. “Aside from that Christmas I spent in Winterfell when she and Arthur went on a cruise to Naath and the Basilisk Isles, I’ve flown down there and I go for anything up to a month in the summer. She’s good – still working as a school nurse and she’s taken up open water swimming recently. I checked in with her earlier, actually.”

“How do you manage Dornish heat in the middle of summer? I’ve found the last couple of days horrendous and it isn’t nearly as bad here.”

Jon chewed on a piece of steak. “Arthur’s family have always lived up in the mountains and the house he and my mother found is next to the sea, so there’s always a bit of a breeze. It isn’t as bad as the desert. It’s good. Rhaenys and Aegon usually come to stay for a week while I’m there.”

His half-siblings had moved to Sunspear with their mother when she divorced Jon’s father, Rhaegar. Jon had been around fifteen when that happened. Part of him had worried at the time that Rhaegar might try to pick things up with his mother again but he never had. It had taken until he was a bit older for Jon to realize that her lack of criticism towards Rhaegar came from not wanting to set him against his father rather than any lingering feelings for him. 

“How are they? Again, I don’t think I’ve seen them since your graduation.”

“Good. Rhaenys is working with a non-profit that helps orphans in and around Sunspear. She keeps complaining about her cousin Quentyn trying to set her up with some friend of his. Aegon is still teaching creative writing at one of the colleges in the city and trying to write his masterpiece. He drives Teora mad with it.” Jon hesitated for a moment, not sure how much Sansa was asking out of politeness. “Last time I spoke to Rhae, she mentioned that her mother is thinking of re-marrying.”

Sansa looked at him for a moment. “Please say if I’m being curious to the point of rudeness, but do you ever find it, well, _strange_? Talking to Rhaenys or Aegon about your respective mothers or staying with them? Your father was married to their mother when he and Lyanna were together.”

“Once, maybe. But Elia is so warm and loving and never, ever made me feel like I was unwanted or not a part of her family. I was pleased, in a way, when she left Rhaegar. She deserved so much more than what he gave her. She’s as much of an aunt to me as Dany, really.” Jon took a deep drink of his wine. This was far too serious a conversation to be having at a get-together for a wedding. “Robb told me you’re thinking about taking a few classes at Winterfell College?”

Sansa smiled. “I am. Evening classes, starting next semester. I studied Business Admin mainly because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life and it seemed like it would be a useful qualification. Only, I’m not really interested in going into business. There was a Northern Folklore and Mythology course advertised in a WC flyer I got through the door. Junk mail, but I read it and got curious and I’ve pre-registered. Two evenings a week for ten weeks.”

“Northern Folklore and Mythology? What’s that? White Walkers and Children of the Forest?”

“Yep. Other things too. Giants and wargs.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s a reason they call it mythology, Jon. You don’t need to pretend you accept these things were real concepts for our ancestors.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“A little bit. Tell you what, you can take a look at the course materials they hand out and tell me which of their historical interpretations you refute and why, you little history nerd.” Jon took her gentle teasing with a smile and went to take another bite of his steak only to realize that he’d already finished it. 

Jon picked up one of the bottles of red wine that was scattered along the table and topped up his glass. “You want some more?” He picked up a bottle of the Arbor Gold and inclined it towards Sansa’s almost empty glass. 

“Half a glass. I don’t have time for a hangover tomorrow.” That hadn’t occurred to Jon. 

“We’ll need to make up for it on the night of the wedding.”

“Not _too_ much. Unlike you, I have to drive back home the next day.” That reminded Jon, he still had to arrange a ride back to Winterfell. He looked down the table to where Arya and Gendry were having some sort of battle with their forks. Jon was staying with them so they’d be the logical choice. They were busy, he decided. And there were still a few days to go.

-

“Do you want to do some laps in the pool or go to the gym while the girls are at the spa tomorrow morning?” Robb asked. He was swaying slightly and seemed not to be conscious of it.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.” Jon looked over at Sansa and Jeyne. It was approaching midnight and the four of them were the last to leave. Theon had been – to Jon’s surprise – one of the first to go (until Sansa whispered in his ear that he’d gone upstairs with one of Jeyne’s old school friends). They’d managed to keep Rickon from going overboard and he’d been persuaded to leave around eleven when Bran and Meera did. 

“Listen, thank you so much for today. And for this weekend. You and Sansa are amazing and Jeyne and I love you both for it.” Robb hugged him tightly. Ever since they were fifteen and experimenting with what they’d snuck out of Ned’s liquor cabinet, Robb had been a cuddly and affectionate drunk and Jon could see it in the glassiness of his friend’s eyes. 

“Well, I think you and Jeyne are amazing too.” He waved over at the two of them and could see Jeyne’s grin widen at the sight of Robb. She and Sansa immediately started to walk over to join them. Jon handed Robb off to his soon-to-be wife.

“Jeyne!” Robb exclaimed. “You looked so beautiful tonight.” He kissed her on the cheek and then nuzzled in at her neck. Jon had to bite back laughter at the look on Sansa’s face. Robb was lucky Sansa was the sister standing next to him and not Arya. Arya would have egged him on and made sure there was video evidence.

“Okay……well. I guess we’re headed upstairs to bed – to SLEEP, Robb. We need to look awake in the morning. Thank you once again for today, both of you, I know this is stressing you as much as it is us. Don’t wait too long before heading up and we’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.”

“I just want to do a final check and make sure nobody forgot anything”, Sansa promised. She waved Robb and Jeyne off and then turned to him. “You could go up to bed, if you want.”

“I’ll stay and help.” That was never in doubt. Aside from knowing how much work Sansa was doing in organizing this wedding, Jon found himself increasingly wanting to spend time with Sansa – and maybe it hadn’t been until today that he realized just how much that was the case.

“Okay.” 

They split the room in half and went round all the chairs, checking underneath the tables, and next to the bar where so many people had congregated. Jon found a bright yellow tie and a large bracelet that must’ve fallen off someone’s wrist. It only took ten minutes and once he and Sansa had compared their findings, she thanked the waiting staff once again and they dropped the lost items off with the night receptionist. 

“What floor are you on?” Jon asked while they were waiting for the elevator. 

“Same as you. When I made the booking I asked for the bridal party to be kept close together – but also, sort of, arranged for Mr. and Mrs. Westerling to have rooms a couple of floors up. Superior suites, they’re called. More space. I figured that way everybody wins.”

“I like your line of thought”, Jon grinned. 

“As did Arya, my parents, Robb and Jeyne.”

“Arya? Yeah, I don’t imagine she and Mrs. Westerling have much in common.” The elevator pinged and they both stepped in. With the late hour, it was empty. 

“Not so much, no.” Jon furrowed his brow as Sansa pushed her shoulders round in circles and raised a hand up to her neck. 

“Here.” It was one word and it was out of Jon’s mouth before he knew he was saying it. And before he had registered that his hands were going to Sansa’s shoulders and giving them a quick rub. 

“Oh, that feels good.” Sansa moaned slightly and Jon recalled the feeling that had washed over him at dinner when she’d been eating that chicken. And again later when they brought out the lemon cheesecake Sansa had selected for dessert. 

Jon almost jumped when the elevator pinged again as it reached the fifth floor. He gestured to Sansa to move into the corridor first and followed her down the hallway. Although he’d been here for around twenty-four hours it had escaped his notice until now that Sansa’s room was directly opposite his. 

“As tired as I am, I’m not sure I could fall right to sleep”, Sansa admitted. “Do – would you like a nightcap?”

“Yes.” Jon recalled the small fridge in his room and the bottles of liquor and water and mixers stored there. He pulled out his wallet and key card and opened the door, relieved that he hadn’t left the room in _too_ much of a mess.

He’d been given a decent sized one. The bed was massive and so, so comfortable, and there were a couple of seats and a sofa to the right of it, opposite a large widescreen TV on which Jon knew he’d never have the time to watch anything more than the news. 

“First things first, get these things off me.” Jon could feel his ears turn red but when he looked, Sansa was only taking her shoes off. Gods, he had to get his mind out of the gutter. Sansa was just looking for company and a drink to help her sleep. Nothing more. They were kindred spirits in the same wedding party. _That was all_. 

“Sit down. What do you want?” Jon opened the fridge. “There’s vodka, gin, whiskey – “

“Whiskey sounds good. A Northern one, if they have it.”

He looked through them. “Skagosi? Ten year malt?”

“Sold, to the woman with the painful feet. I swear, people who design shoes for women have the same low-level masochism as dentists.” Jon couldn’t help but bark out a large and loud burst of laughter at that. “What, it’s true. Inflicting pain on people like that.”

“Ice? Soda?”

“Both, please. Do you have any of those little packs of chips?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“No matter.” She scrolled through something on her phone while Jon poured them a whiskey and soda each. This was a nice, relaxing way to end the day, he decided when he handed Sansa her drink. “Thanks. Cheers. We should toast to something, I feel.”

“To surviving day one – well, I suppose technically this is day two for you. To surviving today.”

“To surviving today. And hopefully surviving tomorrow.”

Jon took a small sip of the whiskey. Even in small doses it had quite the kick to it. “This is good.”

“It is.” Sansa had curled herself up on the sofa, with Jon sitting on the chair just to her left. She indicated her phone. “I’ve just been looking through some social media tags for pictures of the night. No awful ones as yet – though I’m not sure I needed to see a picture of Jeyne’s sister shoving her tongue down Cley’s throat – and thankfully none of an inebriated Rickon.”

Sansa had gone on a few dates with Cley Cerwyn years and years earlier, Jon recalled. He didn’t think it had come to much, though. 

“Rickon said I was an old man tonight.”

“What? Jon, you’re not old.” Sansa laughed. 

“He did! I told him I remembered what it was like to be seventeen and he told me I was an old man now.” He’d been joking, but it had still stung a little.

“Well, put it down to him being tipsy. Do you feel old?”

“No.”

“Good. You shouldn’t. Even if I did spot a couple of greys…..”

“Where?” Sansa laughed again. 

“Sorry – you left the goal wide open there. If I had the choice between being my age and being Rickon’s age again, I would absolutely choose my age. I cringe at the thought of the person I was at seventeen. Shallow and selfish and living with my head in the clouds.”

“No seventeen year old is perfect, Sansa. I should know that – I spend enough time with them. And I wouldn’t go back to being seventeen either.”

“Are you looking forward to teaching the little monsters at Rickon’s school? At our old school, come to that. Is that strange?”

Jon thought about it for a moment. He’d never really considered it from that angle. But since he and Val had split, he’d been checking the teaching vacancy lists for a move back closer to Winterfell. That first year, he’d had to take what he could get and he hadn’t been in Queenscrown for long before he met Val at a local indoor climbing centre. She’d been the reason he stayed. Until she wasn’t. 

“I’m not sure. But I wanted to move home and there’s only one high school in Winterfell, so I didn’t have much of a choice. It’s a good job – Assistant Head of History.” He was getting a pay bump, as this job had extra responsibilities, but he didn’t mention that. “Mormont’s past sixty and being his deputy now means I’ve got a reasonable chance of taking over once he retires."

“I remember taking his class my senior year.”

“I think teaching _Rickon_ will be weirder than teaching at my old school”, Jon admitted. “Are you still enjoying working for your dad?”

“Hmmm”, Sansa hummed. Jon furrowed his brow at the way she tilted her head. “I don’t dislike it and I’m grateful for his nepotism – “

“It’s only really nepotism if you’re incapable and you’re far from that, Sansa.”

“I just don’t really know what I want to do. Still. I’ll be twenty five on my next birthday. Surely I should know by now?” She bit her lip the way all the Starks seemed to when they were a bit nervous.

“You’ll know what’s right when you find it. Is that why you’re thinking about starting evening classes?”

“Partly.”

“Well, hopefully they’ll help you through your quarter-life crisis.”

“Quarter-life crisis?! That’s not a thing, Jon Snow.” Sansa threw a small cushion in his direction and Jon caught it. 

“It is. Promise. One of my students explained it to me when I told the class I’d be moving back to Winterfell.” Queenscrown was a small place and Jon recalled some of his students had known of his split from Val before his own mother had. He handed her back the cushion and Sansa set it down beside her. She took a long pull from her whiskey and soda and sighed. 

“This is going to be a long weekend. Aunt Lysa arrives tomorrow.”

“Let me know if I can help you keep that creep at arms length.”

“Robin is delightful.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. Speaking of Aunt Lysa, I was right – I spoke to my mother and Roslin _is_ pregnant again. Her reaction was the same as mine. Aunt Lysa will turn it into a big issue when it doesn’t need to be. My guess is they aren’t telling anyone to avoid overshadowing Robb and Jeyne and Lysa will make sure that happens anyway.”

“Everyone has a crazy aunt or uncle.” He had Viserys for that. 

“Yes, but it’s easier for you to avoid Viserys”, Sansa pointed out. She stretched down and rubbed her feet. Jon had a sudden compulsion to offer a foot rub but instantly shouted it down, deciding it would be weird. She looked around the room. “I think your room is nicer than mine. The colour scheme is a lot lighter and it’s better laid out.” Sansa stood up and wandered around. “The sofa in my room is better, though, and the air con isn’t so loud.” She pressed down on the bed. “Ah, but your bed is bouncier.”

“Bouncier?” Jon stood up and went to go sit on the edge of the bed. 

“They must have put a different type of mattress in here. See, bouncy?” She was sat next to him, moving around. Jon could see her breasts move around in her dress as she did so and resolutely shifted his eyes upwards to meet Sansa’s. 

He could be reading this entirely wrong and would undoubtedly make things awkward for everyone for the rest of the weekend if he was….. _but_ ……Jon brought himself closer to Sansa and raised a hand up to cup her cheek. Sansa leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Jon could see they’d grown slightly darker. He leaned over further and pressed his lips to Sansa’s, murmuring to her to let him know if he was out of line. 

The moan from earlier was back and it told Jon that he was very much not stepping out of line. The delicate fingers running through his hair as his tongue found Sansa’s told him that she wanted this as much as he did. 

His senses were filled with _Sansa…Sansa…Sansa_ …and then suddenly they were at the top of the bed and she’d pulled out his shirt and was running her hands up his back. The scrape of her nails against his skin……

Jon threaded his fingers through Sansa’s and raised them above her head. And then her legs were wrapped around his waist like a belt and Jon was grinding up against Sansa’s core as his mouth moved from hers to her neck. Long and pale and pretty and _his_. She tasted and smelled of something flowery and sweat and _her, her, her_.

“ _Jon_.” It was cracked and a moan and a whine and it echoed down his ear, right down to his cock. Jon moved his mouth down further to the top of Sansa’s breasts, peeking out from that blue dress Jon now realized he’d been thinking about all night. 

“Gonna make you feel good”, he rasped out, and Jon detached his hands from Sansa’s. He cupped her breasts gently, reverently, and scooped them out of the dress. She shivered when he blew cold air on a nipple and then brought it into his mouth, sucking and licking, his tongue lavishing affection he would normally have difficulty putting into words. He busied one hand with the other nipple and the spare moved down between them, spreading Sansa’s legs and delving into her panties. 

“ _Jon_. _More. More. More_.” And he pushed one finger inside her wetness and then another, covering himself in her juices and Jon could feel the anticipation building up inside him at the thought of tasting her, of licking those fingers dry, before he plunged his tongue inside her. Sansa rode his fingers and whined and moaned through every second of it, spurring him on. 

“This feel good?” he asked. Sansa whimpered in response, and when Jon looked up at her he could see the want in her eyes, the need in the heaving of her chest. 

And then he was moving further down her body and putting his head the one place he’d wanted it all night, really, between Sansa’s legs. He pulled out his fingers first, though, and watched Sansa bite her pretty red lip at the sight of him licking them dry. 

She must’ve been close, with the fingering, because it felt like far, far too soon when Jon felt her clamping her thighs closer to his head and the pull on his hair, when he felt her walls shudder. He could still hear her murmuring his name like a prayer to some deity she was worshipping. 

_Jon…..Jon….Jon……_

When she crested her peak, Jon could feel her tighten and then release. He lapped up her juices like a man running in the desert devours the last drops of water he has left. Jon was rock hard and in desperate need of relief and he wanted inside Sansa, if that was what she wanted. He looked up at her after a moment and caught her eye. 

“Yes”, she whispered. “Yes.”

Jon paid little attention to the removal of his clothes, more intent on watching Sansa take off the dress and panties he’d already pushed to the side. Then he realized it wasn’t just about what he was taking off, but also about what he needed to put on. 

Damn it, but where was his wallet? He knew there was a two pack in there – he carried it around with him _just in case_. Not that Jon was ever a man for one night stands, but you never knew. And he didn’t want to be caught short with pulling out, a failed strategy if ever there was one. 

He soon found it and ripped open one with his teeth. Jon looked down at the bed, at Sansa, waiting for him. Seven hells, but if this was more than a one-time thing then at some point he would most definitely be carrying out some further exploration around the pink flesh he could see under a strip of ginger curls. 

Although her eyes were smiling up at him, Jon could see the way she wasn’t sure how to sit or lie on the bed and went over to her. He brought his mouth to Sansa’s. “You’re so beautiful. And smart. And _you_.”

“I do want this”, Sansa told him. “ _You_.”

And then they were back on the bed again and Jon was letting his hands explore and envelop Sansa as she did the same with him. And then he was inside her and Jon thought instantly how completely and utterly _right_ it felt. 


	2. Friday - Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone confused after I initially posted - I had accidentally tagged this fic as Robb/Theon rather than Robb/Jeyne. I have now rectified that. Sorry for any confusion caused.
> 
> Also, warning for this chap - references to past abuse. It is minor, but it is there.

When her alarm went off, filling the air with the sounds of Alia of Braavos’s mournful tones (yes Arya hated it, but this tone guaranteed Sansa would actually wake up) the first thing that struck Sansa was the ache she felt in her bones. It was a good sort of ache, the kind that came from falling asleep after she’d had a good session at the gym or been to a yoga class. The kind of ache that spoke of renewal. 

The second thing that struck Sansa was that she wasn’t exactly _alone_ in the bed. There was an arm around her as well as a duvet cover and something hard pressed up against her arse. _Oh_. So, _that_ was why she felt the _good sort of ache_. 

Then, the events of the night before came back to her and the third thing that struck Sansa was how much of a cliché this was. 

The best man and the maid of honour? It was a story as old as time – though, usually, it was the night of the wedding they spent together. She and Jon hadn’t even really been drunk. When he began to stir, Sansa realized she hadn’t turned the alarm off and groped around for her phone. 

“Sansa?” Jon’s voice sounded low and gruff and it did _things_ to Sansa that made her wish they hadn’t used both his condoms last night. She didn’t have any on her and she’d come off the pill after graduation. 

She couldn’t quite remember when over the last fifteen months that Jon had gone from being _Robb’s friend Jon_ to _her friend Jon_. Nor could she recall which visit to Winterfell to discuss the wedding arrangements had been the one where she’d started to wonder what it might be like if friend-Jon was more-than-a-friend-Jon. 

This weekend was awful timing, though. They both had so much to do for Robb and Jeyne and her entire family was around and this _wasn’t how she’d planned it out_. She’d intended to spend some more time with him after he moved back to Winterfell and try to gauge his interest before she was completely and utterly friend-zoned. 

He’d seemed interested last night but then he was a man with a willing woman underneath him. Sansa had never seen Jon as the type to sleep around, though, and she knew she was letting her own fears and insecurities creep in. 

“Morning.” She turned round to face him and saw Jon screwing his eyes up at her, the light of the day creeping in through the curtains they hadn’t fully closed the night before. Sansa bit her lip, a bad habit she knew betrayed her nervousness, and then smiled down at him. “My alarm went off. Its eight now, Jon. We – I need to go back to my room and shower.”

“Of course.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then ran his fingers through those curls of his. Sansa recalled how they’d felt under her touch. How all of her had felt under his touch. 

She glanced about the room and located her clothes. Sansa pulled them on quickly and decided the shoes could stay off. Alys had lent them to her, arguing that they went better with her dress than any of the pairs Sansa owned, but her feet were thinner than Sansa’s and they’d pinched her painfully throughout the night. 

Sansa went back to the bed, realizing Jon had been watching her. She hoped that was a good thing. Her phone, shoes and bag in hand, she smiled down at him. “I need to go, but we can talk later. Right?” There would be time. Her day was busy but not full. 

“We can. I’ll see you at breakfast in a bit.” Jon stretched out and Sansa held in a whine at the sight of his stomach rippling. She wanted to bring her breakfast back up here and eat it off him. Sansa wanted to bend down and kiss him but lacked the courage to do so. 

She peeked out the peep-hole in the bedroom door but saw nothing and couldn’t hear too many people around. Perhaps having everyone’s rooms so close together hadn’t been the best idea after all? A slight opening of the door failed to elicit more noise and so Sansa poked her head out and saw the corridor empty. She quickly pulled her key card out of her bag and jumped into the bedroom opposite Jon’s. 

The second her door closed behind her, Sansa’s mind was filled with images of Jon from the night before. Jon kissing her. Jon threading his fingers through hers. Jon with his mouth on her breasts. Jon with his head between her legs. Jon as he moved inside her and filled her up. And then the second time around, Jon’s eyes burning through Sansa’s as she rode his cock, her breasts bouncing with abandon. 

Sansa hadn’t been with many men in her twenty-four years, but she had been with enough to know that Jon was skilled when it came to pleasing a woman in bed. 

She quickly caught sight of her face in the mirror and the bird’s nest that was her hair. It looked to be in the same state Arya’s frequently had been during their childhood. Gods, she needed a shower. A quick check made certain there weren’t any overly obvious marks Jon had left on her skin. As much as Sansa would’ve liked Jon to mark her, it meant she didn’t have anything she couldn’t explain away to Jeyne. There was nothing that would need to be covered by copious applications of foundation.

The clothes she’d hastily pulled back on were soon in a puddle on the floor and Sansa walked into the hot shower, wishing that she wasn’t doing so alone.

-

“This was definitely one of my best ideas”, Jeyne grinned as they lay back in the hot tub, glasses of champagne sitting just to the side of them. 

“Definitely”, Sansa agreed, though she had to suppress the thought that her day had not quite gone as she’d intended thus far. She had hoped to speak to Jon over breakfast – or at least arrange a time they could go for a private walk in the grounds – but by the time Sansa entered the vast dining room, he was sitting with Arya and Gendry and then Robb and Jeyne had joined them and she’d promised her morning to her future good sister.

Sansa couldn’t knock their spa experience. She’d had the most relaxing back and shoulder massage of her life and they still had a while in the hot tub before their manicure and pedicure slot. The bubbles in the tub were soothing and added to the effect the massage had had. 

“Thank you. I know I’ve said it before and the seven know I’ll need to say it again – thank you for this weekend.”

“You’re my best friend and Robb is my brother. Why wouldn’t I be here for both of you?” Sansa asked pointedly. She and Jeyne had clicked so well when they met that Sansa sometimes forgot they hadn’t known each other their entire lives. It had been five years earlier that Sansa had started at White Harbour University, a transfer student, and gone along to the student counsellors’ office at the recommendation of her advisor. Jeyne had been the first person she’d met. Half an hour and some lemon cakes later they were giggling like old friends. 

“I know we’ve been a nightmare – “

“You and Robb are not a nightmare.” _Your mother and her family are a nightmare._ “A little indecisive at times, perhaps, but not a nightmare.” More than once they had spent a night debating a small issue Sansa would previously have thought could be decided in a matter of moments. 

“My mother doesn’t help matters.” Sansa wondered what to say to that. “No, you don’t need to say anything. I know how she is. She’s the reason this carnival is happening here rather than a nice godswood and hotel in Winterfell. She’s the one who insisted on two services.” Jeyne rolled her eyes at that. In the five years she’d known her, Sansa had never known Jeyne to attend weekly services at the sept by the docks in White Harbour or the one a couple of streets away from Winterfell High. On the contrary, Jeyne had always been fascinated by the Old Gods and the heart tree.

“You’re her eldest daughter and you’re marrying first. It was always going to be a big fuss.” Sansa knew if she was getting married her own mother would be much the same – full of ideas for dresses and venues and with an opinion on the type of cake and who should be in the bridal party. She wouldn’t be as brash and forceful about it as Mrs. Westerling had been, Sansa knew, but it would still be _a very big deal_ to her.

“Thanks, but you don’t need to be diplomatic. You know as well as I do that I was never exactly torn between staying in the North and going back to Crag after graduation. Even if Robb hadn’t been in the picture. You’ve been amazing this weekend – this week – actually, since Robb and I got engaged. You and Jon have both been there for us.” Jeyne smiled widely and Sansa couldn’t help her own grin forming. She also now had to suppress visions of her and Jon going out for dinner with Jeyne and Robb. A happy group of happy couples.

Sansa bit her lip but did not ask the question. She hadn’t shared with Jeyne that she felt ready to date again. Nor had she shared what had started off as a mild crush (if a woman of twenty four had such a thing) on her brother’s best friend. It had been Jeyne who suggested they both go together when Sansa had clammed up at the question of whether she’d be bringing a plus one. Was this mention of her and Jon a conversation opener? Or, was Sansa looking too deeply into a simple comment, caught up in her own thoughts of the night before. 

“Have you got that speech of yours all sorted?” Jeyne asked a moment later. 

“I do.” Sansa had written it last weekend while working her way through half a bottle of Arbor Gold. As maid of honour, she had to speak at the rehearsal dinner tonight. Thankfully her father was speaking first. She reached out and took the glass of champagne in her hand, and sipped on it lightly. This felt very decadent to her, champagne in a hot tub – and so early on in the morning – but Sansa embraced it. She needed to treat herself more. There was a well-reviewed spa in Winterfell that she could visit some weekend or other when it took her fancy.

“Is it terrible that I can’t wait for this weekend to be over?”

“You got engaged fifteen months ago. I get that by this point, the two of you just want to be married.”

“It isn’t that – or, it isn’t just that. I’m just done, Sansa. I’m done with petty remarks about everything, with little family feuds that need to be worked around, and trying to remember my family tree never mind Robb’s. I just want to be on that beach in the Summer Isles working on my tan during the day and then walking back to our hut at sunset.”

“It does sound blissful.” Sansa had never been anywhere as exotic as the Summer Isles. 

“I’m sure you’ll go one day.” _I’m sure you’ll get married one day, Sansa heard._ The Summer Isles were _the_ honeymoon destination.

“I will.” Sansa was grateful for the certainty in Jeyne’s voice and the lack of pity. So many of the girls she’d attended Winterfell High with were married now, and in some cases starting families of their own. They had mortgages and date nights with their husbands and went on vacation with friends and other families. She was too used to the tilt of the head and soft tone when she met them in the street and spoke of her roommate Alys and the job with her father. 

She took another sip of the champagne and closed her eyes, mentally working her way through everything they needed to get done today. Somewhere in there, she needed to talk to Jon about the night before. 

-

Sansa felt a sense of renewal when she went downstairs for lunch. After she and Jeyne had returned upstairs following their time in the spa, she had enjoyed another shower (this one quicker than the last) and pulled on a favourite summer dress and sandals. A quick check in with Shella to make sure everything was on track for the rehearsal dinner later and she walked into the dining room feeling the positive effects of her massage and the bubbles from the hot tub and champagne. 

She glanced around the room for someone she knew and finally caught sight of Arya and Gendry. Sansa waved and walked over, grateful they had space at their table, knowing they wouldn’t mind if she joined them. Once, Sansa knew she would’ve been aghast at the thought of Arya marrying before her. Now, all she could feel for her sister was happiness. 

“We haven’t ordered yet”, Gendry told her when Sansa sat down opposite her sister. He handed her his menu. “I’ve already decided.”

“Thank you. Where is everyone?”

“What, you mean we’re not your first choice lunch buddies?” Arya asked with a grin. “Bran and Meera went into town for a while. They took Rickon with them. Mum and dad are having a late lunch when Aunt Lysa gets in with that creepy husband of hers. Bran and Meera should be back soon, though. Uncle Ed begged them to look after his rugrats while they’re eating. You know what Lysa’s like about having kids around.”

“I do.” Sansa had been forced to take it into account when working through the seating plan for both the rehearsal dinner and the reception. She expected Lysa to complain at length about Roslin and Edmure bringing the children with them, given Ros’s large family and the free childminding they could cover for her, but Sansa had looked forward to seeing her cousins again and would never wish them away.

Jon had questioned her about a holiday. Perhaps if her plans with Alys came to nothing she could go to the Riverlands for a week or so and visit with Uncle Ed and his family. Spend time with her grandfather and Uncle Brynden. Or travel to Bear Island to see Uncle Ben, Aunt Dacey and the twins.

“What time do I have my dress fitting?” Arya asked, making a face. Sansa rolled her eyes. Jeyne had gone out of her way to choose a beautiful, deep burgundy for the bridesmaids dresses and allowed Sansa, Arya and Eleyne to choose the style themselves. Her sister might whine about it but Sansa knew she was satisfied with her choice. 

“Around three? I’m not sure how long it’ll take and the rehearsal dinner starts at six.” Arya and Gendry exchanged a look. “What?”

Gendry cleared his throat. “We should be back by then.”

“Do you have things to do in town?”

“Are you ready to order?” They were interrupted by a young man around Rickon’s age with a notepad. Arya and Gendry looked at her.

“Of course”, Sansa smiled. She glanced down at the menu and selected the first thing she came across that she’d eat, not wanting to hold everyone up. “I’ll have the house chicken salad – large – and a bread roll on the side, please. And a large glass of ice water.”

“We’ll have double cheeseburgers with the bacon well done – burnt – extra relish and a portion of fries to share. And another round of cokes”, said Arya, indicating herself and Gendry. The young waiter took away their menus and promised to be back soon with their drinks. “You’re just having a salad?”

“A _large_ salad. We’re eating a five course meal tonight and I want to make sure there’s room for the lemon meringue pie I’ve got my eye on. So, you’re going into town after lunch?”

“We’re going to the station. ‘Cella’s getting in with her boyfriend. Their train is due a little after two thirty. Sansa – are you sure you’re okay with – “

“I already had this conversation with Jeyne and Robb when the invitations went out. ‘Cella has never done anything wrong.” _It was her brother who slapped me around and then laughed in my face when I cried._ “She’s your good sister and we spent time together growing up. Robert was a good friend to dad. He would’ve been horrified if he’d known what……..if he was still here, Robert would’ve been invited too. Renly and his husband are coming. The only reason Tommen isn’t going to be here is that the wedding clashed with his travel plans. Its fine, Arya.”

Sansa did not add that it might be weirder for Myrcella than for her, given the massive crush she’d had on Robb at the age of twelve or so. It had been painfully obvious to all of them. Sansa should’ve seen the cruelty in Joffrey’s teasing that summer; she should’ve realized that it went beyond sibling jests. Robb would never have spoken to her like that.

“Okay.”

“Is this boyfriend big brother Gendry approved?” Sansa forced a smile across her face, trying to concentrate on the giggly girly games she and Myrcella had once played and not on the ringing sensation in her ear when Joffrey had smacked his hand off the side of her head. 

“Trystane’s cool.”

“He’s totally intimidated by Gendry”, Arya grinned. The waiter returned with their drinks and Sansa looked around the room. She did recognize a number of people from the night before, but there was still no sign of Jon. Sansa had knocked on his door on her way down in the hope he might’ve been in his room, but there was no response. 

“I haven’t seen Robb since breakfast”, Sansa commented, knowing it would be less suspicious to ask after her brother than Jon. She doubted she had _I had sex with Jon last night – twice!_ – tattooed across her forehead, or any other visible sign of what had happened, but Sansa did not want to give her sister room to ask awkward questions.

“He and Jon went out somewhere. Gendry and I went for a run after breakfast and they were driving off. In Robb’s car, obviously, because Jon was an idiot and didn’t listen to what I was saying about getting Gen to check it out. I’m not a car expert, but even I knew there was something wrong when his car started making that banging sound.”

-

“What’s taking so long?” Mrs. Westerling barked at Amabel, the seamstress from the local village Sansa had engaged to make the final alterations to their dresses. Sansa winced. Amabel came highly recommended and had worked hard to fit them into her schedule. 

“Taking down a hem takes more than a few minutes. We need to make sure everything is even. And young Beth here is being a little champion.” Roslin had sent them Bethany’s measurements and the _Northern Brides_ store Jeyne had used in Winterfell had sent the dress down to them for a fitting. That had been a couple of months ago, though, and Beth had gone through another growth spurt since then. 

Mrs. Westerling pursed her lips in disapproval, but said nothing further. Instead she poured herself another glass of champagne and sat down in her chair. Sansa caught Jeyne’s eye and smiled at her friend. 

“Do you like the dress, Bethany?” Jeyne asked her, crouching down. Bethany nodded happily. 

“I like the pretty roses.” Unlike the bridesmaids, Bethany was wearing a cream dress with blue winter roses sewed into the design. 

“Good. I have them on my dress and in my bouquet, so we’ll match.”

“Daddy said he is going to take lots of pictures of me in my dress. And mummy says we can do the flower petals again tonight.”

“Daddy’s going to be so proud of you”, Roslin told her. She ruffled Bethany’s red hair and smiled at her daughter. “And grandpa will be there to see you. And Uncle Brynden.”

Sansa’s phone pinged and she typed her password in quickly with a quiet hope that it might be a message from Jon. She still hadn’t seen him since this morning, just after eight, when she’d got dressed and snuck back from his room to hers. It wasn’t though. It was from her sister. 

**_Arya:_ ** _That’s us back. I’ll be up in a couple of minutes._

True to her word, there was a knock on the door shortly after and Sansa let her sister in, greeting her with a glass of champagne. 

“Sorry”, Arya apologized to Jeyne. Her sister ignored the pointed glare Mrs. Westerling gave her and sat down on the sofa, flinging her legs over the arm of it. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Myrcella’s train got held up just outside Rosby. An elderly woman fell ill with heatstroke and they needed to wait on an ambulance. Gendry’s downstairs with her and Trystane, getting them checked in.”

Sansa spun her phone around in her hand, wondering if she should text Jon. The problem was that she didn’t know what to say. She knew what she wanted to say – that she’d had a good time the night before and was interested in pursuing things further with him. That Jon had brought her more pleasure in bed than she’d ever known before. But the first and second were things she knew were best said in person and the third something Sansa was shy of saying at all. 

Jon wouldn’t laugh at her. She knew him well enough for that. At worst, he would awkwardly let her down gently. He had seemed to want her last night. He had kissed her first. Sansa had to remember that. She had to remember the way he’d said she could stop him. 

He had wanted her. And she’d never known Jon to be a one night stand kind of guy. 

For a minute, just a minute, Sansa allowed her romantic side to take over and visions of a possible future to fill her mind. Jon taking her out for dinner. Jon coming on a hike with her up in the Flint or Liddle Mountains. Jon helping her finish off a batch of muffins she’d made. Jon curling up next to her on the sofa with a glass of wine. Jon waking up next to her and helping make breakfast. Jon inside her. Jon with his mouth on her.

“Sansa?” She came to and realized that was probably not the first time Jeyne had said her name. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking about……never mind.” She smiled at the sight of Bethany twirling around in her dress and clapped. “The best flower girl in Westeros.”

“Okay, let’s get you changed back into your other clothes and then we’ll meet daddy and your brothers to go into town for ice cream, okay?”

“Ice cream!” Bethany skipped into the bathroom, quickly followed by Roslin and Sansa felt a pang for the days of innocent childhood when things like ice cream were a big treat and her world was full of happiness. 

“So, who wants to go next?” Jeyne asked. 

“I’ll go. I want to use the sauna before I get ready for this dinner of yours”, said Eleyna before Sansa could ask if Jeyne herself wanted to go next. They’d decided to work on Beth’s dress first so she wouldn’t become bored. “Where’s my dress? I’ll go change behind the divider.”

“I guess that’s the decision made”, Arya muttered. Sansa topped up her sister’s champagne. She spent the next half hour or so doing the same and holding her sister’s attention while first Eleyna and then Arya herself tried on their dresses and confirmed that the bridal shop in Winterfell had made all the necessary changes and no more were required. And while Mrs. Westerling heaped praise upon Eleyna and questioned whether Arya’s height meant she was drowning in her dress. 

By the time Sansa tried on her own dress, she was silently wishing Mrs. Westerling had gone to join Eleyna in the sauna. Perhaps if Jeyne had gone after Eleyna then she might have left. Sansa wondered at her own mother not joining them, but perhaps Aunt Lysa was holding her mother’s attention. From what Roslin had said, Lysa had been on top form at lunch and had insisted on sending back Robin’s meal twice.

Sansa looked in the mirror while Amabel smoothed out the dress at the bottom. She’d chosen a halterneck style dress, the same as Arya, with a zip up the side rather than the back. It was simple enough that she could get in and out of it without assistance. 

“Your shoulders are broader than your sister’s”, Mrs. Westerling commented, looking at her critically. Sansa wondered how much of the biting commentary she’d endured so far this weekend came from Mrs. Westerling’s bitterness that Jeyne had chosen Sansa as maid of honour rather than her sister.

“I think it means the style suits you better”, Arya retorted. Sansa smiled at her sister’s loyalty. Once, she would have listened to Mrs. Westerling and taken it on board negatively. She would have obsessed over how her shoulders looked and worried that she’d made the wrong decision in the bridal shop – or, if it was earlier on in the process, would have changed her mind entirely. “Two seconds.” Arya pulled her phone out and took a picture of Sansa. “See? It looks fantastic on you.”

“I agree”, said Jeyne, before her mother could get a word in. “Perfect. Time for mine, I suppose, and then we’ll need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.” Sansa took a quick look at her watch and saw that it was almost four thirty. It wouldn’t take her more than half an hour to get ready, which was a good thing as she’d need to be down in the ballroom early. She didn’t envy the staff who would need to clean it all up afterwards and then set the room for the reception. 

“Well, if your intended’s cousin hadn’t needed so many alterations – “

“Beth’s had a growth spurt. It’s normal for five year olds”, Jeyne told her mother. “And she looks lovely in the dress. So excited.”

“I don’t know why you thought you needed a flower girl. You’d have been better with more bridesmaids to dance with the groomsmen. As it is, two of you will need to double up.” She turned to Arya. “You won’t need to – the pictures would look awful with the height difference. With Rolly we can just about get away with it.”

“Would you like another glass of champagne, mother?”

“What? Oh, yes. Yes, I suppose so. Well, hurry up then. I have to get ready. I’ve no idea why this was arranged for so late on in the day.” Sansa closed her eyes and silently promised poor Amabel a large tip. 

-

Sansa was, as she’d planned to be, one of the first down for the rehearsal dinner. Her mother had knocked on the door when she was tying her necklace and they had come down in the elevator together. Sansa wished it had been Jon at the door, but seeing him before the dinner seemed too much to hope for. And she could hardly knock on his door and ask to speak to him with her mother hovering at her shoulder. 

“You look lovely, sweetheart”, her mother assured her when Sansa smoothed out her dress. She’d chosen a black one that had been bought for her graduation from White Harbour and seldom worn since. It was a halterneck – like her dress for tomorrow – and flowed out in the skirt, coming to a rest just below her knees. Sansa had added some colour by pairing it with a clutch bag and heels in a similar shade of green that was echoed in her make-up. 

“So do you. A very glamorous mother of the groom.” Her mother laughed at that and thanked Sansa. 

“Oh, isn’t that nice?” Her mother pointed at the board outside. It sat upon an easel and in an elaborate font there was the order of play for the evening that Sansa had asked Shella to provide. It gave a time for the meal to commence and noted the order of speeches. Sansa was a bit nervous about hers, but she knew it was only meant to be a short one. More of a toast than anything else.

They walked into the ballroom and Sansa let out a slight gasp at how beautifully it was decorated. She had seen pictures in the hotel’s brochure of past celebrations, and had gone through the details repeatedly with Robb and Jeyne and Jon and Shella, but seeing it was something else. 

Each table was set with wildflowers from the North and the Westerlands, symbolizing Robb and Jeyne’s homelands, and the top table was laid out like something from a glossy magazine spread. Crystal glasses gleamed upon the tables and reflected the fire of the candles. It was easy to imagine that several hundred years ago, when this was owned by the Strong family or the Harroways, that large, glamorous and decadent gatherings had been held in this very room. 

Just inside the door was the table settings Sansa had pored over laboriously over the course of a weekend that had ended with several large glasses of wine. No doubt there would be those dissatisfied with their placing, but Sansa had done as best she could. 

Her mother’s former lecturer, Tytos Blackwood, who had let out his holiday home to the Starks on more than one occasion over the years, had been kept far away from Jeyne’s school friend Cerissa Brax and her Bracken husband. Uncle Ed and his family were with her grandfather and Uncle Brynden, and Uncle Benjen and Aunt Dacey. Aunt Lysa, who could not abide children at table, had been placed with relatives of Jeyne’s. 

Sansa looked again at the top table, set tonight for eight – the happy couple and their parents, along with the best man and maid of honour. 

“My brother busy prettying himself up for tonight?” Sansa laughed and turned to see Uncle Benjen in front of her. She could see he’d grown a few more grey hairs since she’d seen him last – most likely due to the mischief Lyra and Lyarra had cooked up between them. 

“He’ll be down shortly – I asked him to check on Rickon”, her mother said as Sansa hugged her uncle tightly. “Dacey and the girls?”

“I left them to an argument over some sort of hairspray that colours your hair.”

“Wise decision”, Sansa smiled. “How was the flight down?” Her uncle had been limited in the time he could get off work and so this was the first she’d seen of him all week. 

“A bit bumpy taking off. Summer storms and that plane from Bear Island to Torrhen’s Square is tiny. At least we didn’t have to wait too long for our connection. It didn’t take long for us to get from the airport in the hire car. How’s everything been here? How’s Robb?”

“Good. Calm.” Sansa allowed her mother and uncle to chatter away while she looked around the room again in the hope that she might see Jon. There was no sight of him, unfortunately, though she did see that Bran and Meera had made it down. They were already at their table and completely engaged in only each other, Meera straightening her brother’s tie. 

“Sansa!” She smiled at the sound of her cousins calling her name. Sixteen year old twins Lyra and Lyarra were making their way over to her, leaving their mother behind them. Both had Uncle Benjen’s height and look and Sansa always found it strange to see the two of them either side of Arya. In some ways, she looked more like their sister than Sansa’s. “Sansa sandwich!” they exclaimed as they hugged her, one from each side. 

She could see that both had blue highlights in their hair. It seemed they’d won the battle with their mother Uncle Ben had mentioned. “It has been far too long since I’ve seen either of you.”

“I love your dress”, Lyra told her. She turned to her twin. “Can you imagine it with black leggings, a pair of converse and those lacy fingerless gloves I’ve got? It’d be a great outfit for that music festival we’re going to in Deepwood Motte next month!”

“Who’s headlining?” Sansa asked. She was sure she knew the festival Lyra was talking about – Robb and Jon had gone one year and said the metal was a bit too heavy for them. 

“ _Borroq and the Boars_.” A band more to Dacey, Lyra and Lyarra’s taste than her own. 

“One of your favourites?”

“The best ever!” Lyarra sighed. She got a glazed look on her face that Sansa was sure she must have worn at sixteen when she was obsessed with some new boy band or other. “Are you sitting with us?”

“Sansa’s the maid of honour. She gets one of the fancy seats.” Sansa smiled and hugged her aunt. In so many ways Dacey and Roslin were as different as the sun and the moon (as her father had once said of Sansa herself and Arya) but she loved them both equally. 

Like her daughters, Dacey wore a jumpsuit rather than a dress and a broad smile. “You’re with the Tully bunch – minus Aunt Lysa. Girls, I put you with Rickon. You’ll save him from being surrounded by couples.” She’d thought to put Robin at the same table, but Lysa had insisted on her son sitting with her. 

“Cool.” 

Sansa pointed off to where her brother was sitting opposite Bran and Meera and the girls promised to see Sansa later, before speeding off to their seats. Lyra and Lyarra had always got on well with Rickon and Sansa knew they often spent hours online gaming at the weekend. She turned back to her aunt. “Bran and Meera are sensible enough to keep them in line. And Arya and Gendry.”

“By _in line_ , you mean _sober_.”

“Yes.”

“As long as they’re not disruptive, I don’t mind them having a few drinks. They’re sixteen now. If they’re going to drink then I’d rather they did it where I could see them. How are you? Your father told Ben that planning this wedding has been like planning an intercontinental military invasion.”

“Not as bad as all that, but there has been a lot to do.” She took a glass of champagne from a waiter circulating with a tray of them and handed it to Dacey, before taking one for herself. “To Robb and Jeyne.”

“Robb and Jeyne.”

Sansa turned around and saw Robb and Jeyne had come down. She smiled at her brother and raised her glass when their eyes locked. He was speaking to a number of Jeyne’s relatives and getting that tic where he repeatedly tugged at his collar – a tell Sansa knew meant he was looking to get out of the situation he was in. 

“I need to go and rescue Robb”, she apologized. Sansa pointed to where he was and Dacey giggled. 

“I’ll speak to you later.”

Sansa glanced up at the large, antique clock and saw it was just after ten to six. Not too early for them to take their seats. She was paying little attention to anyone else, and so she almost jumped right out of her skin when someone pulled at her arm. Sansa calmed herself quickly and saw it was Uncle Petyr who was holding her wrist. She detached it as gently as possible and forced a smile onto her face, hiding the nervous thud, thud, thud of her heart. 

“You are a vision”, he told her, leaning in to kiss Sansa. She turned her head at the last minute so he got a mouthful of her hair rather than her cheek. “Doesn’t Sansa look lovely tonight, Lysa?”

“Your shoulders are very bare”, Aunt Lysa commented. What was it with this obsession over her shoulders today? 

“The Riverlands is very warm at this time of year. I – I like your dress.” The dress was powder blue and the style was not to Sansa’s taste, but she knew her manners. She turned to her cousin. “It is good to see you again, Robin. I can’t believe it’s been a year since we were all at Riverrun for Uncle Brynden’s seventieth! Are you enjoying the trip?”

“I hope the food is better than it was at lunchtime. Twice I had to send Robin’s food back.”

“I am sure it will be, Aunt Lysa.” She could feel her creepy uncle edging further away from Lysa and closer to her. She flinched as his hand reached round to the small of her back. 

“There you are, Sansa.” She had never been so pleased to see Jon in her life. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come down. Shella caught me on the way in. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. Shella’s the events co-ordinator for the hotel – our go-to person on all the wedding arrangements,” Sansa explained as she excused herself and noted that unlike Petyr, Jon did not touch her when he led her in the direction of the top table. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just saw that creep – his wife was stood right there! You were quite clearly _not_ comfortable and I promised I’d help you avoid him as much as possible this weekend.” 

“Thank you.” All day, she’d been desperate to speak to Jon and now the moment had come she wasn’t quite sure what to say. How to start the conversation. Not that they should be having such a conversation in public. And part of her was disappointed in herself. She didn’t want Jon to see her as weak. As someone who needed rescuing.

“No problem. You’re too kind to – I know you don’t want to cause trouble with your aunt.” For a moment their eyes simply locked and Sansa knew she wasn’t the only one itching to say something. She wanted to lean in, lay her head on Jon’s shoulder and have him wrap his strong arms around her. She wanted him to kiss her.

Jon didn’t kiss her. He seemed to shake himself out of their trance and suggested they find their seats. “Robb!” Sansa exclaimed. “I was going to rescue him.” She remembered what she’d been doing when her aunt and uncle had interrupted her. Sansa looked around and saw he and Jeyne were almost at their seats. 

-

By the time the last morsel of lemon meringue pie passed her lips, Sansa was beginning to feel uncomfortably full. After the duck starter, summer vegetable soup and selection of sorbets designed as palate cleansers – enough food for an entire dinner on any normal day – she’d still had the swordfish and pie to go. In the end, Sansa had decided she liked lemon meringue pie more and set half her fish to the side so her desert could be consumed in full. 

She laid down her cutlery and took a long sip of the wine she’d been topping up through the meal. Not too much – she still had her speech to go – but enough to calm her nerves. There had been little in the way of conversation to distract her. To her right was Jeyne, who spent most of the meal whispering away to Robb, and to her left was Mr. Westerling. 

Sansa had always had a soft spot for Jeyne’s father who, throughout his wife’s almost constant commentary on what was going on at the other tables, had let out a string of _uhms_ and _ahs_ and _ohs_ with such precision that it spoke of decades in which he had clearly heard a lot of noise but closely listened very little. She remembered meeting him for the first time when he’d flown up to White Harbour to visit Jeyne while his wife went away for a spa weekend with Eleyna. Mr. Westerling had taken her and Jeyne – and Robb – out for dinner and been both generous and kind.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve been ignoring you”, said Jeyne, taking Sansa’s hand. She rolled her eyes. 

“You’re getting married tomorrow. You’re allowed to spend the rehearsal dinner conversing with your future husband. I would be worried if you’d been talking to me rather than Robb this whole time.”

Jeyne laughed. “When you put it like that……”

Sansa glanced around the room. Everyone seemed to be having a good time and the table plan appeared to have worked. At least, Sansa hoped it had. These people would be in the same seats the following day. Those only able to attend the wedding and reception would be seated together at additional tables. Arya and Rickon appeared to be joking with their cousins about something; she could see Roslin taking a sleeping Brynden and young Olyvar and Hoster out – presumably up to bed; Theon was entertaining a group of Robb and Jeyne’s WHU friends with some story or other. 

Sansa glanced along the table and saw Jon in deep conversation with her parents about something. She overheard his mother’s name being mentioned and thought it so like her parents to remember to ask after Lyanna Dayne. 

And then the staff were clearing away the empty plates and it was time for the speeches to begin. They were really more like toasts than speeches, and there would in any case only be two of them. Firstly, her father stood up and thanked everyone for attending. 

“Both Cat and I have been very happy in our marriage and we want the same for all of our kids. In Jeyne, we think Robb is continuing Arya’s excellent start on fulfilling that wish of ours. Jeyne, we’ve known you for a few years now but I think you became one of us the very first time Robb brought you back to Winterfell. In any case, I would like to officially welcome you to the family Stark. May this be the first of many celebrations we share together.” Her father raised his glass and turned to the rest of the room. “To Robb and Jeyne.”

“To Robb and Jeyne!”

Sansa watched her father take his seat again and saw the look that passed between her parents. It spoke of years of love and affection and support. It was a look that sometimes made Sansa wonder if she hadn’t been spoiled at a young age with the idea that she would simply meet a good man, fall in love, and live happily ever after. If her parents had ever had a cross word for one another it had never been spoken in front of their children. 

It was a lot to live up to, but Sansa thought Robb and Jeyne could manage it – as she expected Arya and Gendry would.

When the applause for her father had calmed down, Sansa stood up and glanced out at the dozens of eyes looking up at her. She took in a deep breath and steadied herself. She could do this. She had this. 

“I’m sure many of you know that I first met Jeyne at WHU. I was a transfer student who barely knew anything about her new roommate beyond the girl’s name. None of my friends from Winterfell High had gone there and it felt like the only people I actually knew were my brother and his friends. I took the advice of my student advisor and went along to the student counsellors’ office. The first person I met when I walked through the door, was Jeyne.”

Sansa could recall it as if it were yesterday. A good sized room with desks and computers, but also a massive widescreen TV on the walls and comfy sofas and bean bags scattered throughout. There was a pool table and a coffee machine, air hockey and brightly coloured posters on safe sex and mental health. 

Sansa glanced round at her best friend and saw Jeyne grinning widely. 

“And Jeyne – though she could have no way of knowing this – then did the one thing guaranteed to make her my friend for life. She offered me a lemon cake.” There were widespread chuckles at that. Even Robb scrunched up his eyes in amusement and he’d heard the story countless times. 

“Jeyne was the first and best friend I made at WHU. We’d known each other for about three weeks when we met my brother and some of his friends for drinks in one of the classier White Harbour pubs. In the days and weeks and months that followed, it became very clear to me very quickly that while I would always call her my friend – my best friend – I would also one day call her my _sister_.”

Sansa raised up the glass she’d purposely filled before starting. “Once again, and not for the last time this weekend, I would like you to raise a glass to my brother and my best friend. To Robb and to Jeyne and to all the years of happiness I know they’ll share together.”

As Sansa’s toast echoed around the room, Jeyne stood up and hugged her tightly. “You weren’t supposed to make me cry”, she insisted. 

“You’re getting married tomorrow. You’re allowed to cry”, Sansa reminded her. “As long as they’re happy tears.”

“They are”, Jeyne promised. She hugged Jeyne again and looked over her shoulder, catching Jon’s eye. He smiled at her and inclined his glass in her direction. His lips moved. _That was great_. Sansa mouthed back her thanks. She wished she could mouth more – say more – but she had her duties as maid of honour to carry out. And sadly not all of them involved the best man. 

“Can you believe I’m getting married in less than eighteen hours?” Jeyne asked, glancing at her watch. Sansa looked up at the clock on the wall and saw that it was after nine. There had been gaps between each course – not long ones, just long enough to give everyone time to digest their food before more was placed in front of them – and then the speeches. 

Sansa glanced over at the table where her siblings and cousins sat and saw Rickon taking advantage of Meera and Bran’s interest stretching only to each other, and Arya and Gendry’s absence, to refill his glass and those of their cousins. Ah well, her parents were in attendance tonight and they would see Rickon didn’t step too far out of line. 

With the meal and speeches over now, a long line of people came up to the table to congratulate Robb and Jeyne and ask questions about the dress and honeymoon and Jeyne’s recent promotion. Sansa sat in polite silence and sipped her wine while thinking about Jon Snow, murmuring thanks to those who complimented her toast.

-

“It is perfectly fine – I don’t mind”, Sansa insisted. She didn’t see how making final checks over the function room as she had the night before was too much. Robb and Jeyne didn’t usually push back when she offered to do something for them.

“No, Jon can do it tonight.” Sansa bit her lip at Jeyne’s insistence and held back the retort that Jon had helped her the night before and she’d hoped for a repeat of that this evening as a convenient opportunity for her to _finally_ talk to him.

Almost everyone had either gone upstairs or followed Theon in the direction of the hotel bar. Only her immediate family remained, Jeyne having waved off her parents and siblings only moments earlier. They had to get out as soon as possible so the hotel staff could clear up from tonight’s festivities and prepare for the actual wedding.

“Please?” Jeyne asked. “I just – I want to go over things for tomorrow and make sure I have everything set out. Please?”

Sansa relented and nodded. She was the maid of honour and if Jeyne wanted her to run through some things, then that’s what Jeyne would get. Robb’s things had been moved to another room earlier that afternoon to allow them to spend the night before the wedding apart as was the ancient Westerosi tradition. 

“Thank you!” Jeyne slipped her arm inside Sansa’s and turned to Robb and Jon. “Sansa is coming upstairs with me. We’re going to leave it up to the two of you to make sure the staff has everything they need.”

Jeyne moved away for a moment. She went over to Robb and hugged him tightly, whispering something in his ear. When she gave him a long, lingering kiss goodnight, Sansa averted her eyes and instead caught Jon appraising her. They’d stared at each other a lot this evening but an opportunity to actually talk had not presented himself – and the one Sansa had considered certain had been taken from her. 

“Come on, Sansa.” She smiled at Jon and Robb and allowed Jeyne to lead her to the elevator. She would need to speak to Jon at the reception – or on Sunday. Perhaps she could offer to drive him back to Winterfell. Most likely he would be travelling with Arya and Gendry, but she could make the gesture and hope it would be clear to Jon that she was interested in pursuing something with him.

Jeyne chatted a way quickly and without cessation until they reached her room – the one she’d shared with Robb since their arrival at Harrenhal on Tuesday. Sansa looked around it and could see the evidence of Robb’s absence. It was actually tidy and no space her big brother inhabited ever stayed that way for long. He, Arya and Rickon had that in common.

“It’s alright to be nervous”, said Sansa, once Jeyne took a breath and began fidgeting with the garment bag her dress was stored in. It had been brought down from the suite her parents shared – where they’d had their fittings that afternoon – once Robb had moved out. Again, it would not do for the groom to catch sight of the bride’s dress before he watched her walk towards him in it. Sansa had stored all their dresses in her apartment once the bridal shop had finished working on them and laid them carefully in her back seat for the long drive down from Winterfell. 

“Nervous?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean in a _wondering if you’ve made the right decision_ sort of way. I meant in the nervous anticipation sort of way. When you get butterflies in your belly and your mind is running away with itself at hundreds and thousands of miles an hour.”

Jeyne had spoken earlier that day, in the spa, of just wanting to be married already. But even before that, Sansa had never considered at any point – even when Robb and Jeyne hadn’t agreed on wedding decisions – that this might be called off. She couldn’t see either of them getting cold feet. 

“I guess that is how I feel”, Jeyne sighed. She sat down on the bed. “A final glass of wine to commemorate my last night as an unmarried woman? I say unmarried rather than free because I don’t see myself as giving up my freedom by marrying Robb. He’d never force me into something I didn’t want to do.”

“That sounds great. And I hate that _free woman_ term too.” Sansa went to the small fridge and pulled out a couple of small wine bottles. She poured them into the glasses that sat on the table underneath the wall-mounted TV and handed one to Jeyne.

“Cheers.” Jeyne raised her glass to Sansa. She took a large drink from the glass and went over to the dressing table. “Okay. Make up, check. Necklace and bracelet, check. The ancient Westerling family tiara my mother _insists_ I wear, check. Hair pins and hairspray, check.”

“We have everything. We’ve checked it all off. All you need to do now is finish your wine, wash off your make up and brush your teeth, put on your comfiest pair of pyjamas, and get a good night’s sleep”, Sansa assured her. She hugged Jeyne tightly. “You’re getting married tomorrow. In twenty four hours, the madness of this week will be almost over and you can start focussing on your honeymoon. Two whole weeks of sunshine and relaxation, as discussed earlier. And no decision making beyond which bikini you put on.”

“That sounds great”, Jeyne chuckled. “You’ll come have breakfast with me in the morning? I know I’m going to be too excited and nervous and my mind so active…..”

“Let me know when you’re up.”

Sansa left Jeyne and went back to her own room. She hesitated a little, wondering if she should knock on Jon’s door. It wasn’t too late. She could – before she could talk herself out of it, Sansa knocked hopefully on Jon’s door. Twice. Sansa waited a minute. And a second. Perhaps he was in the bathroom. Perhaps he was asleep. 

Perhaps he hadn’t even come upstairs yet. 

Sansa turned and pulled out her key card, opening her own door. She kicked off her shoes, rubbed the back of her neck and stretched out. Tomorrow would be a big day – a long day – for all of them. She should really get some sleep. But as had been the case the night before, she was too wired to go to sleep now. Instead, she switched the TV on and selected a news channel, muting it as Ed and Roslin were next door with four small children, and followed the ticker tape on the bottom of the screen.

The news channel was covering a horse riding festival in the Essosi city of Vaes Dothrak when Sansa heard someone in the corridor outside. Someone stopping at her door. Sansa jumped up and looked through the peep hole. She could see the back of Jon’s head bent over something – perhaps trying to locate his key card in his wallet. All it would take was her opening the door and inviting him in. But before Sansa could do so, Jon was opening his own door and entering the room. 

Sansa caught sight of the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven now. Late, but not too late that she couldn’t go over there. Her eye caught sight of the package on her bureau. She’d purchased it at the hotel shop after lunch, when Arya and Gendry had left to pick up ‘Cella and Trystane – not with any intention of using it, if Jon didn’t want to….just to replace what they’d used the night before more than anything. 

No, she could do this. Sansa thought of the way Jon had kissed her and how she’d come undone underneath him. Before she could think too much or talk herself out of it, Sansa grabbed the package and her phone, along with her key card, and stepped barefoot into the hallway. She took two steps forward and knocked on Jon’s door again.

This time, Jon answered. 

Jon had loosened the grey tie he’d worn for dinner and shrugged off his suit jacket, and he smiled when he saw it was Sansa who had knocked on his door. 

“Hi.”

“Hi”, he echoed. Jon stood aside to let her in. “Can I get – do you want a drink?”

“A small one, but only if you’re having one yourself.” She’d spread out her drinks over dinner and didn’t even feel tipsy, but Sansa thought of the Skagosi whiskey and the kick it’d had. The burn on her throat.

Jon indicated the tumbler of whiskey and ice sitting on his bedside table and set about pouring her a drink, while talking about how excited yet nervous Robb seemed to be in the elevator. His new room was on the same floor, but down a different corridor. Far enough away that he and Jeyne were unlikely to run into each other before the wedding ceremony. 

“Thanks”, said Sansa, accepting the glass. “Jeyne was much the same.” She leaned against one of the bedposts and took a drink before setting the glass down on a nearby table. Sansa recalled what she’d brought with her. “I, uh, I wanted to give you this. To replace what you……so, uhm, yeah……”

She handed over the three pack of condoms that she’d bought (along with a couple of souvenirs) from the hotel shop. Jon quirked an eyebrow at the sight of them. There was curiosity in his eyes, but also something else. Something she hoped spoke of a desire for last night to be more than a one-off event. 

Jon tossed the pack of condoms down on the bed and came over to stand in front of her. Sansa realized suddenly that they were the same height when she was barefoot. She could feel the change in his breathing and raised her hand to tuck some loose curls behind his ear. Before her arm was halfway down again, his hands were in Sansa’s hair and his mouth was on hers and it felt so good that all Sansa could do was moan in contentment. 


	3. Saturday - Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, bit of a small warning on this chapter - some minor ignorant homophobia (I'll leave it up to you to guess who from.....)

Jon woke on Saturday morning to a shock of auburn hair in his face and a fruity scent filling his nostrils. He took in a whiff of it and spent a moment revelling in the wonder that was waking to find Sansa in his arms for a second successive morning. He murmured his contentment and pulled the sheet of hair to the side so he could kiss Sansa’s shoulder. 

Sansa sighed happily and shifted in his arms. 

When he’d woken up next to her twenty-four hours earlier, Jon’s only regret was that he and Sansa had just sort of _gone for it_ on Thursday night and hadn’t really talked first. He hadn’t told her that he wanted to take her out for dinner and drinks and to a movie. He _still_ hadn’t told Sansa that. Every moment they spent around each other on Friday had been in the presence of too many other people – and this was a conversation Jon wanted to have in private. 

Jon shifted his hand slightly and began tracing circles on the back of Sansa’s wrist. She was making the softest sleepy sounds that made him scrunch up his nose as he smiled. He’d been half-thinking about texting her when he got upstairs the night before, to see if she was still awake, and then Sansa had knocked on his door and they’d fallen into bed as they had on Thursday. 

Although he knew they had to talk before Sansa went back to her own room to begin preparations for the wedding, Jon didn’t want to wake her. She looked so peaceful when she slept. 

Jon’s eye caught the bedside table and the torn condom wrappers there. Sansa had brought a pack of three over to replace the two they’d used up and now he was out of them again. After he’d eaten Sansa out while she held onto the bedpost behind her, Jon had laid her out on the bed and allowed himself to fill her up. They’d gone again not long after, and then a third time when they’d awoken during the night. 

Sansa had got up to use the bathroom and the light had woken Jon. He’d seen her naked, bathed in the light of the bedside lamp, and his mouth was on hers the moment she was under the covers again. Jon had enjoyed learning Sansa’s body immensely and hoped it would not end here. He wanted to spend weekends exploring her every crevice with his mouth. 

Sansa was amazing and Jon couldn’t understand how they hadn’t connected when they were younger. 

She shifted again, and Jon could feel her beginning to wake. Sansa turned and looked at him, her eyes still sleepy, and smiled. 

“Morning”, he murmured. 

“Morning.” She yawned, raising a hand to cover her mouth.

“You get enough sleep?”

“Yeah.” 

“Morning.”

Sansa giggled. “You already said that.”

“Well, it’s a good morning.” Jon leaned towards Sansa and pressed his mouth to hers. She opened up her mouth to him and he could feel a hand reach round to the side of his face and then fingers running through his hair. 

Sansa tugged at his bottom lip with her perfect white teeth and Jon moaned into her mouth. If this wasn’t the perfect way to wake up…..

Jon shoved the duvet off them and kissed his way along Sansa’s jaw, moving to the rhythm of her hips underneath him. He was already half-hard and could feel Sansa’s body responding to him. Her hips canted upwards and those moans…… _gods_ but those moans alone could undo a man. 

His thumb found a nipple and moved it back and forth, right to left, left to right until he replaced it with his tongue. “ _Fuck_. Jon…gods, Jon that feels so _goooooooood_ …..”

Jon shifted slightly, moving down further in the bed as he devoured Sansa’s breasts. Her nipples were perfect and pink and the one on her right breast had this delightful little cluster of freckles just above it that Jon had already decided he enjoyed mapping out with his tongue – and from the sounds she made, Jon had to figure Sansa had no objection to it whatsoever. 

“Shit. Why are we out of condoms?” Sansa whined. “There. _More_. More……..”

Jon kissed his way down towards Sansa’s navel. He kissed her softly and then looked up at those beautiful blue eyes. They were ringed with navy and want and pleasure and they sat above two blush cheeks. Jon’s mouth formed a grin. 

“What I have planned doesn’t require condoms. I just wanted to get an early start on breakfast.” And then his mouth found her mound and kissed her there. And then he was kissing and licking and sucking, his tongue inside Sansa while her thighs clasped around his head and it was as if he were flying. As if they both were. 

Jon clasped Sansa’s butt cheeks and she was panting his name over and over and over again. He was worshipping Sansa and she was chanting his name as if it were her last prayer.

_“Jon…..Jon…..Jon…..Jon…..Jon…..Jon…….”_

He lapped up Sansa’s juices hungrily as she came down from her high. Jon was as hard as a rock and trying not to think about it. That would be his issue to deal with. If Sansa offered to reciprocate then he wasn’t saying _no_ , but he wasn’t about to make her feel obligated either.

Jon was ready to go again, kissing the inside of Sansa’s thighs, when her phone rang. It wasn’t the awful music from the morning before so he realized quickly this was a call rather than her alarm going off. 

“Bloody awful timing”, Sansa breathed. She waited a moment and Jon could hear her try to calm her breathing. “Hello? Yes, I’m awake already. Of course you didn’t wake me up. How are you feeling? Okay – I’ll be along once I’ve brushed my teeth and put on some clothes. I can take my shower later. Five minutes.”

Jon leaned back on his knees and Sansa set her phone back down on the bedside table. “I have to go calm a hyper-active bride.”

“Rain check?”

“Rain check – better not be raining today.” Sansa looked down at his cock and groaned. “I’m sorry, orgasm denial is only good when you actually want it – and I have five minutes to stop looking and sounding like what just happened….happened. See. I’m struggling with sentences!”

“I can take care of it in the shower.” Jon bit his lip. “I’ll be thinking of you, if that counts? Or – shit, Sansa, was that wildly inappropriate?”

Was it ever acceptable to tell a woman she was in your spank bank? Or even to imply you had one?

Sansa just laughed. “Don’t worry. I – I think I kind of like that you would be.” When she finished talking, her face had stilled and it looked almost vulnerable. Jon moved over and kissed her softly. He pulled Sansa into a hug, his fingers dancing up and down her bare back. 

He got up off the bed and helped Sansa find her clothes. He doubted she’d be along at Jeyne’s room within five minutes, but Jon was sure Sansa could redirect Jeyne’s attention to her big day. When she was dressed and they were standing at the door, Jon pointed out that they still hadn’t actually talked.

“I want to”, he told her. Jon wanted Sansa to know – though he was fairly sure she did – that this was more than just wedding weekend sex for him. “I really want to.”

“We will.” She smiled at that, and Jon tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear before giving Sansa a final farewell kiss. 

“See you in the godswood.”

-

Sansa had organized a large suite for Robb’s final night as a bachelor to allow the Starks – and Jon as best man – to gather for a private breakfast away from the rest of the wedding guests. Jon had made the arrangements with Shella, and a large buffet had been brought up. There were steaming sausages, crispy rashers of bacon, grilled tomatoes, eggs fried, poached and scrambled, as well as fruit, toast, juices, teas and coffees. Not to mention pastries and pancakes and muffins.

Jon helped himself to some scrambled eggs on toast and a large, black coffee and found a seat next to Rickon. The youngest Stark yawned loudly and grumbled. “Why did we have to get up so early?”

“Rickon, its nine thirty.”

“Exactly. Inhumane to be up this early on a Saturday – especially during the summer.” Jon saw that the _early_ hour had not, however, prevented Rickon from indulging himself. His plate was piled high with bacon and pancakes……and sausages…..and eggs. There was even toast and a blueberry muffin on the side. Jon wasn’t sure where he put it all. Rickon was like a beanpole. 

“I’m sure you’ll survive it.” He clapped Rickon on the shoulder and got stuck into his eggs, wondering what Sansa was having for breakfast. Jon had a sudden thought. He pulled out his phone and took a quick picture of Rickon’s plate. _Your brother’s breakfast_ , Jon typed beneath it. He clicked on _send_ without thinking.

“How can you eat all that?” Robb sat down on the other side of Jon with a croissant and coffee and made a face at Rickon’s selection. His left leg bounced up and down and Jon didn’t think he was even noticing it. 

“Very easily”, Rickon replied through a mouthful of bacon and egg. Jon thought it probably wasn’t the best time to point out to Robb that when they were Rickon’s age, he had seen Robb eat that and more in one sitting.

Jon’s phone pinged. He saw immediately that it was a message from Sansa. _That has to be Rickon’s breakfast, right? What are you having for the most important meal of the day?_ He grinned and fired off a quick response, reminding her that he’d already had a breakfast of sorts. It was probably dangerous sending such a message to Sansa with two of her three brothers in close proximity but the happiness he’d felt over the last couple of days gave him the confidence to risk it.

His phone pinged again, almost immediately, before he could get back to his breakfast. _You can’t send me messages like that when I’m around people. I went bright red and had to tell Jeyne that some food had gone down the wrong way!_

Jon chuckled and sent a sorry emoji before returning his phone to his back pocket. 

“You’re in a good mood this morning”, said Robb. 

“Yeah, uh, I had a good sleep last night”, Jon replied. He didn’t think Robb would appreciate hearing the phrase _I had my mouth between your sister’s legs around, oh, an hour and a half ago and that’s why I’m so chipper_. “So, only a few hours to go now.”

“Yep. We’ve got the rings? And all the flower things to go with the suits? And the suits?”

“We’ve got everything”, Jon assured him. “All you need to do is turn up at the scheduled time.”

“Right.” Robb started nibbling away on the croissant. It was a big wedding and it was natural for him to be nervous. Jon wasn’t looking forward to having to stand up in front of them all for his speech. Plus Robb had the ceremony and things on top of that. He was as much the centre of attention as Jeyne today. 

That brought Jon’s thoughts back to his best man speech. He had mental notes and he had written notes, but he didn’t have a completed speech as such. Perhaps by that point in the day everyone would’ve had enough drinks that they wouldn’t care what he said. 

“Hey, listen, do you have any spare batteries?” Robb asked. “I was going to shave before you all appeared but my electric razor just sort of made a whiny sound and then cut out.”

“I don’t have any spare but they’ll have some for sale in the hotel shop. I can head down after breakfast and pick up some for you”, Jon suggested. 

“That’d be great. Thanks. Shit, you’ve done so much for us. I – we really do appreciate it. You and Sansa.” Jon forced a smile and shoved another mouthful of egg and toast into his mouth. Yes, Sansa. The _not-so-altruistic_ reason for Jon’s offer. He was pretty sure he’d seen batteries in there the other day and it would afford him an excuse to be in there when he bought more condoms. Not that he was _expecting_ anything with Sansa, but after the last two nights it certainly wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.

“Fuck’s sake”, Robb muttered, looking at his phone.

“What?” Robb handed over his phone and Jon scrolled through several gifs and memes Theon had sent on the wedding night theme. Some of them were pretty graphic, but then this _was_ Theon. He’d tried to organize a skinny dipping party the night they were all finished their final exams at White Harbour. In the end, Theon and a couple of others had dive bombed off the end of the pier – and had promptly been arrested for indecent exposure. Edd still bemoaned it to this day.

“It’s Theon”, Jon shrugged. “This is why you picked me rather than him.”

“Well, there were other reasons. But, yes, also this. I wonder what Jeyne’s having for breakfast.”

“Food?” Rickon suggested. Jon shook his head and chuckled.

“He’s got you there.” Jon finished off his eggs and toast and returned to his coffee. He mentally went over in his head what he needed to do until the ceremony – trip to the hotel shop, shower and trim his beard, dress, stop Robb from freaking out, and head down to the godswood around half an hour before the ceremony started. The _Harrenhal Country Hotel_ had one of the largest godswoods Jon had ever seen – certainly the largest outside the North. 

They had plenty of time until the godswood ceremony started at three – plenty of time for him to have to keep Robb calm. 

-

Jon adjusted his tie and then glanced at his watch. It was a little after twelve thirty and about time for him to go and try to keep Robb’s mind occupied until they were to go down to the godswood. Two hours. They could manage that. Jon had picked up a deck of cards and a family-sized bag of cheese puffs (something he figured wouldn’t mess up their suits and incur the wrath of Jeyne and/or Sansa) to keep them going. 

When his phone began to ring, he wondered if it was Sansa. They’d been texting on and off throughout the morning and it was becoming increasingly flirtatious. He knew Sansa was supposed to be spending her time with Jeyne but she could easily have snuck away for a few moments. The thought of her sneaking down the corridor to his room had a smile on his face and his dick twitching very quickly. 

It wasn’t Sansa, however. It was his mother. 

“Jon, sweetheart, how are you? How’s the lucky groom?”

“I’m good, thanks, ma. So is Robb. Or at least he was around an hour and a half ago when I left him in his suite. I was going to head back along there in a minute. How are you? Everything all set for Allyria’s big day?” Allyria was quite a bit younger than his step-father, around Jon’s own age. He had got to know Arthur’s siblings relatively well over the last few years, but he had only met Allyria’s fiancé Beric a handful of times. Their Blackhaven home was a couple of hours away from where his mother and Arthur had settled. 

“A little nervous, but that’s to be expected. The car taking Ashara and I to the Sept will be here in a few minutes and I was ready, so I thought I’d give my boy a call.”

“Speaking of nervous, is Arthur having kittens at the thought of giving her away?”

“He is a little – would never admit it to me – but just a bit. I think he’s more concerned about the speech, to be honest. How is yours coming along?”

“Well, it’s – you see – “

“You don’t have a completed speech, do you?”

“Yeah, no. Not really. But I have enough to get me through.”

“I hope you aren’t going to torture poor Robb on his big day.”

“ _Poor Robb_ – almost all the trouble I ever get into was instigated by someone else. Okay, Robb is nowhere near as bad as Theon. Nah, I figured I’d give him a pass today.” _If for no other reason than one day I may ask him to return the favour and I would prefer to be able to remind Robb that I didn’t telly any embarrassing stories about him_.

“I wish these weddings weren’t on the same day”, she sighed down the phone. “I would’ve liked to see the ceremony in the godswood.” As best man, it would be up to Jon to actively participate in the ceremony on Robb’s side. It would be a little different from when he’d done so on his mother’s side for her wedding to Arthur. 

“I can ask someone to video it for you”, Jon suggested. He’d have to wipe the texts he and Sansa had exchanged first, though. Bran or Meera – or even Gendry – would be able to see them if they had his phone. The three of them were trustworthy but Jon knew Sansa would be mortified if someone accidentally saw some of what they’d sent back and forth.

“Would you?”

“Of course. I’ll ask Bran to do it. He’s good with technology.”

“Thank you. Listen, I better go. The car will be leaving soon. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, will I? Or Monday?”

“Monday. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back in Winterfell tomorrow.”

“You’re not taking the train back, are you?”

Jon shook his head. “No, I’ll catch a lift with one of the Starks.” _Hopefully Sansa, though I’ve still to ask her_. “Have a good time and try not to twist an ankle dancing this time.”

“That was _once_ , Jon Snow. Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, ma.”

Jon closed the call and did a quick scan of himself. The wedding rings were in his inside breast pocket. He grabbed the cards and cheese puffs – along with his wallet and phone – and set off in the direction of Robb’s room. Although he’d known for fifteen months that Robb and Jeyne were getting married it felt a little strange to think that after all the planning they’d done, the day was finally here.

He recalled one particularly fraught half-term weekend he’d spent in Winterfell early-ish on in the process. They’d made the mistake of arranging a video call with Jeyne’s parents to discuss a few wedding details and it had led to a heated discussion over the venue. The Starks had _hoped_ – and framed it in those terms – that the wedding would take place in Winterfell while Mrs. Westerling was insistent they hire _Casterly Rock Retreat_ , a golf and spa resort that was the largest wedding venue in the Westerlands. In the end, they’d decided on the Riverlands (Mrs. Stark tactfully refrained from reminding everyone that was her homeland) as a neutral venue between the two. As soon as they’d decided on the Riverlands, only _Harrenhal_ would do. 

That was the one and only time, as far as Jon was aware, such a planning session took place. Thereafter, the arrangements were discussed only with Sansa and himself. 

Jon had barely finished knocking on Robb’s door when he answered it. “Were you literally standing on the other side of the door?”

“Kind of.” Robb turned and – Jon assumed – recommenced his pacing. 

“Sit down.” Jon set up a table, showed Robb the pack of cards and the cheese puffs, and indicated the seat opposite him. “Come on. We’ve less than two hours to kill.” He opened the bag of cheese puffs wide – “I figured even the two of us couldn’t make a mess with this” – and shuffled the cards. “Gin?”

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

“Funny.” Jon rolled his eyes but went in the direction of the small fridge in the corner of the room. He pulled out their miniatures and grabbed some ice. “You get one. One to last you until we go down to the godswood. Jeyne and Sansa would kill me if you turned up even slightly tipsy.”

“Two.”

“Two”, Jon allowed, already having been prepared to make the concession. Jeyne had made him promise the night before that if Robb wanted a drink to settle his nerves, then there would be a limit – just as there would be on the amount of champagne she would consume. She knew Arya had a couple of bottles she was intent on bringing to their preparations. Jon assumed it was partly celebratory and partly an attempt to tune out Mrs. Westerling.

Jon carried the drinks over and placed them on coasters. He gave the cards another quick shuffle and then dealt them out. 

“My dad and Rickon should be along soon.”

Jon looked over his cards. Not too bad. He organized them into some semblance of order and waited for Robb to play first. “I need to ask Bran to film the godswood ceremony for me, if you and Jeyne don’t mind. My mother wants a video of me standing up there.” 

“Yeah, that sounds cool. To be honest, I was surprised Jeyne’s mother didn’t insist on a wedding video.”

-

When Jon stepped outside the hotel, the first thing that hit him was the almost blinding rays of sunshine. Jeyne clearly had credit with the weather gods because this was exactly what she had hoped for. Jon recalled Sansa asking Shella about contingency plans in case of rain until Jeyne insisted they cease all such talk immediately because _her big day was_ not _going to be anything but sunny_. 

He hung back a little with Rickon, allowing Robb to walk ahead with his father. Jon figured this was probably the sort of time most men had a father-son talk. The big day. The commitment of marriage. The foreverness of it (well, in some cases). Instead, Jon let Rickon chatter on about how he had _dominated_ that last game of gin and was now thinking about going pro as a card shark. Jon rolled his eyes. Rickon changed his mind about what he was going to do when he graduated high school at least once a month. 

The two of them followed Ned and Robb down the pathway to the godswood. Sansa had come down for a quick look before the bride’s party started getting dressed and had texted him to say how beautiful it looked. When they entered the godswood, Jon saw that Sansa’s message had been far from an understatement.

Rows and rows of chairs were set out neatly, facing the heart tree. The hotel had even fashioned an aisle of sorts, with an archway for Jeyne to walk under on her way to Robb, and each seat was cushioned and decorated in the colours of the tree itself, the white of the bark and the red of the leaves. 

It was stunning. _Harrenhal_ might be ridiculously expensive but they absolutely delivered on what you paid for. 

Rickon looked around. “They really need four of us to show people to their seats?”

“No, probably not”, Jon conceded. “But Robb and Jeyne both have two brothers. You wouldn’t expect Robb to choose between you and Bran or Jeyne to choose between Raynald and Rollam, right?”

“I guess.”

They were first down, as Jon had anticipated they would be. Bran would most likely be down shortly, along with Jeyne’s brothers. Jon didn’t know them that well, but they seemed nice enough. He knew Jeyne’s mother was talking up a possible engagement between Raynald and his girlfriend, Rosalind Lannister – a cousin of Gendry’s half-sister – but Jeyne had told him she didn’t think it was on the cards for at least another year or so. Not until her brother had finished training to be a vet. 

Jon glanced halfway up the aisle, where Robb and Ned stood. They were deep in conversation still. 

“I have to dance with Jeyne’s sister”, Rickon grumbled. He made a face.

“I’m dancing with yours. I hope I don’t step on her feet.” Jon was, in reality, actually quite looking forward to dancing with Sansa. He liked the idea of holding her hand and twirling her around. Being in the wedding party had made at least one dance mandatory but Jon knew that when he and Sansa agreed to stand in as each other’s “dates” he was possibly committing to more than one. 

“It might not be too bad. At least then she would have a good excuse not to dance with Aunt Lysa’s creepy husband.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m starving.”

“You ate half the family-sized bag of cheese puffs I got for Robb and I to share plus a sizeable chunk of the breakfast buffet _and_ the club sandwich from room service. Peckish is completely plausible. I would even take hungry. But starving? Already?”

“It’s an expression”, Rickon shrugged. 

Bran appeared a moment later and by the time Raynald and Rollam had come down, they’d been re-joined by Ned and Robb. The guests would be arriving soon and so Jon suggested to Robb that they move up to the heart tree to avoid awkward small talk with almost every single guest. 

“Small talk is your phobia, not mine”, Robb insisted as they walked away. 

“True, but – shit, I’ll just be a moment.” Jon turned round and went back to beg Bran to record the video for him. He made one final check to ensure all conversations with Sansa since he had arrived at _Harrenhal_ had been deleted and handed over his phone. 

By the time he and Robb had got to the heart tree, Jon could see the first guests had entered the godswood. “Relatives of Jeyne’s?” Jon guessed when Robb got a confused look on his face at the sight of two elderly women in bright colours. 

“Yeah. I think they’re her mother’s aunts. Maybe. I’m still a little bit iffy on her family. I mean, knowing names and stuff.”

“We’ll you’ve got years to get to know them.” Though perhaps not these two. They looked quite frail and as far as Jon knew, Jeyne and Robb didn’t intend to spend much time in the Westerlands in the near future. Both had busy jobs that kept them in Winterfell. Jeyne had just been promoted to Junior Case Officer in the local social work department and Robb was building his career in the law. 

After that they trickled in at a sort of even pace. Many of them Jon didn’t know but recognized from the last night or so. He knew Gendry’s uncle, Renly Baratheon and his husband Loras who – Gendry had told him the night before – were also headed to the Summer Isles in the next few days (though not the same island as Robb and Jeyne) to celebrate their third anniversary. Then there were some of their mutual friends from WHU – Cley Cerwyn and Robin Flint and Benfred Tallhart. 

Benjen Stark’s twin girls had sprayed their hair red today, a similar shade to the leaves on the heart tree, and Jon noted they moved along to the opposite end of their row from Lysa Baelish. Jon wished he still had his phone. Sansa would’ve laughed at the sight of her aunt’s face the moment she saw Benjen’s family. Aside from the hair, both Lyra and Lyarra had multiple ear piercings and had taken great pleasure the night before in telling him all about their nose studs – right down to how it had felt compared to an ear piercing. 

The Stark twins waved at Robb and Jon made sure they both waved back. 

When Catelyn came to sit in the front row alongside Ned, and Shella appeared to scoot the ushers to the front, Jon knew that it was time for the ceremony to start. He glanced at his watch and saw it read only a couple of minutes to three o’clock. 

“Looks like that’s about us”, Jon commented as Mrs. Westerling swept down the aisle with one son on each arm, wearing one of the largest hats Jon had ever seen. It was pink and garish and tilted, so it thankfully was unlikely to take one of her sons’ eyes out.

“Looks like”, Robb replied. “Not all women turn into their mothers, do they?”

Jon chuckled. “Nope. Not all of them.”

“Good.” Robb fidgeted a little. “You have the rings?”

“I do.” Robb had made him check three times before they left the room. Technically speaking they wouldn’t need them until they got to the Sept. “You’ll be fine.” Jon indicated the appearance of Arya. “Here we go.”

Robb’s cousin Bethany came down the aisle first. She held a small basket in her hand with rose petals that she dusted along the ground. Jon smiled at the look of concentration on her face and thought again how like Sansa she looked. Her mother was crouched down at the front of the seats, next to Catelyn, her phone in hand so she could record it. Jon saw Edmure sat along from her and their youngest in his stroller, the twins having been left to the care of their grandfather and great-uncle. 

After Bethany came Arya and then Jeyne’s sister, Eleyna. And then, there was Sansa. 

As she walked towards him with a smile on her face, wearing a dress that fitted her like a glove (and which Jon hoped he’d be helping her out of in a matter of hours) he was struck once again by how beautiful she was. Her long red hair – curled for the day – shone as the mid-afternoon sun cut through the trees and she walked with the grace of a queen.

“Fuck. Wow.” Jon could her the catch in Robb’s voice as he swore at the sight of Jeyne. She came towards them in a white dress and veil, winter roses in her bouquet and her arm holding on to her father. Mr. Westerling looked proud as punch and Jon saw his wife reach into her bag for some tissues. 

“Who comes before the old gods on this day?” Jon asked, when Jeyne and her father had reached the heart tree. He hoped his voice was as loud and clear as it needed to be. Maybe he should’ve practiced. 

“Jeyne Westerling”, she replied. “Of age and freedom to marry, I willingly come here to seek the blessing of the gods as I wed.”

“Who comes to take my daughter Jeyne’s hand in marriage?” Mr. Westerling asked. Jon smiled. He knew Jeyne had worked with her father on the wording.

“I do. Robb Stark. Of age and freedom to marry, I too come here willingly to seek the blessing of the gods as I wed.”

“Jeyne, do you wish to wed this man?” her father asked.

“I do so wish.”

“Robb, do you wish to take this woman?”

“I do so wish.”

Jon smiled. “By the power of the old gods, in the sight of them and those here with you, you are now husband and wife.”

Robb leaned forward to take Jeyne’s hand and kissed her to the applause of all the guests. A godswood ceremony was always a short one – and much changed from centuries past – but Jon had always loved the simplicity of it. Arthur had never been a religious man and when his mother had asked to wed before a heart tree, he had readily agreed. On the day he had told Jon how much more he had enjoyed it than any other such ceremony – even accounting for his being the groom on that occasion. 

Jon was unbelievably happy for Robb. They had known each other almost all their lives and he could still recall the day – not even three months after Sansa had introduced them – when he and Robb had got a little drunk at home in Winterfell for Christmas, and Robb had blurted out that someday, he was going to marry Jeyne. Jon smiled at that memory and decided it had come to him for a reason.

He caught sight of Pia, the photographer, taking some candids of Robb and Jeyne as their parents approached to congratulate them. Sansa’s eyes then met his and Jon couldn’t help but smile at her with what he assumed was most likely a very goofy grin. Sansa returned it and Jon knew with every moment that passed just how much trouble he was in with her – because Jon was already trying to work out how he could conceivably spend almost all his free time between now and when he had to return to Queenscrown to pack up in Sansa’s company.

“Shouldn’t we get moving now?” he heard Mrs. Westerling ask. “We’ve only got half an hour before the real ceremony starts.”

“That was a real ceremony”, Jeyne responded through gritted teeth. Jon looked and saw her smile didn’t falter. “I told you before, mother. I’m as much Robb’s wife now as I will be in an hour’s time.”

Jon could sense trouble and it seemed Sansa did too as she was immediately on hand to suggest Pia take some pictures of the wedding party in front of the heart tree. “Of course”, said Robb, looking as if Sansa had just earned his eternal gratitude yet again. “That sounds like a great idea, Sans.”

“Pia?” Sansa called out. “Some pictures at the heart tree? Perhaps Robb and Jeyne first, and then with myself and Jon alongside them?”

“Good idea”, he murmured in her ear as Pia made lighting and placing adjustments.

“Thanks. You know, they’re only going ahead with the second ceremony for Jeyne’s mother. She doesn’t believe in the Seven, but Robb _does_ believe in the old ways. This was for him and the other one is for her mother.”

“How often in the last fifteen months do you think one or both of them has privately wished they’d eloped?”

Sansa snorted. “A lot.”

-

It was with a great sense of relief that Jon sat down next to Robb at the top table for the dinner. Jeyne was speaking to her mother so politely it was clear how irritated she was by what had been said not only in the godswood, but during the post-Sept photographs when it was implied a certain pose made Robb look what Mrs. Westerling described as _chunky_. The Starks hadn’t taken too kindly to that comment either – particularly Arya.

He felt for Sansa, who was now effectively part of a two person buffer between Jeyne and her mother, along with Mr. Westerling. Speaking of Sansa, he glanced along the table and caught her eye. They hadn’t really had an opportunity to exchange more than a few words of small talk – and several flirty text messages. 

Jon pulled his phone out and went to send another.

“Who are you messaging?” Robb asked. He sat down next to Jon. 

“Oh, I was just going to send off a quick message to my mother. I need to send her that video Bran took.” _Hopefully that works – it definitely sounds better than telling you I want to restart my flirty exchange with your sister from earlier_.

“Cool.” While Robb watched, Jon sent off the message and then returned his phone to his pocket. He supposed it wouldn’t be too long until the food was over and the dancing started – that would give him a legitimate excuse to have Sansa in his arms. 

“I saw Wylla and her new girlfriend earlier. She said they just made it down from old Wyman’s birthday party last night with a couple of hours to spare.”

“Hmmm.” Wylla Manderly had been in a number of Jon’s classes at White Harbour and they’d dated for a few months before deciding they were better off as friends.

“Is it weird?”

“What? Seeing my ex at your wedding?” He’d been around Wylla countless times since they’d split up in their final year. She’d stayed on at WHU to do a Masters in Northern History while Jon studied for his teaching qualification. He recalled her being at multiple parties he and Robb had held in their shared apartment that year.

Robb rolled his eyes. “Well, yes, that. But also your ex-girlfriend having a girlfriend at my wedding?”

“Why would it be weird? Wylla told us both she was bi our first year in White Harbour, remember? She wanted us to go to WH Pride with her. What was the name of the girl she was seeing then? Marna? Morna? It isn’t any weirder than it would’ve been if she turned up with a boyfriend.” Jon couldn’t remember. He had said hello to Wylla in between the services and been introduced to Allara. She seemed nice and it felt like she and Wylla were a good fit.

“I guess”, Robb shrugged. 

“What are you two plotting?” Jeyne asked as she sat down. She’d all but forced Sansa into her seat and insisted it was Eleyna’s turn to help her go to the bathroom in her wedding dress.

“Just discussing the guests”, Jon replied. He gestured at the almost-full tables. Soon, it would be time for the food. Jon was grateful the food was coming before the speeches. Partly because it would give him more time to consider what he was going to say, and partly because he hadn’t eaten anything since the cheese puffs Rickon had mostly commandeered for himself.

It would be a five course meal, as the rehearsal dinner had been, and Jon couldn’t wait for the pork medallions and chocolate fudge cake he had selected for his final two courses. Jon had yet to find a way to resist any offer of chocolate fudge cake – free or otherwise. 

His stomach rumbled and Robb laughed at him. “Hungry?”

“ _Starving_ , to use Rickon speak.” Robb chuckled at that. 

“Fair enough. You got your speech ready?”

“Mostly. You?” Should he have offered to help Robb with it? He’d never considered before that such a thing might fall within his duties as best man.

“Yeah. All I really need to do is thank everyone else.” Robb lowered his voice and glanced along the table. “You checked that our order arrived?”

“I called down to Shella this morning. It did and she’ll bring it out when required.”

“Thanks. It was a good idea.”

“I do have them, you know.”

-

A couple of hours later, Jon had gone from _starving_ to _comfortably full_ and was listening to Mr. Westerling praise Jeyne and welcome Robb to the family. The two of them had been huddled together throughout the meal, in their own little world, and so Jon had flitted between casual conversation with Ned and Catelyn and surreptitiously sending flirty texts to their eldest daughter.

The guests all applauded when Mr. Westerling raised his glass to the newlyweds, before following suit with their mostly full glasses. Jon could see multiple bottles of wine on some tables and a lonely one or two on others. 

Robb stood next, grinning wildly. “Thank you. And thank you to all of you for joining us both this weekend for our wedding. We know some of you have travelled quite a way to be here and truly appreciate your endeavours and your company.”

Robb took a quick sip of water and Jon took advantage of the pause to catch Sansa’s eye. She smiled back at him and Jon found himself keener than ever to get to the end of the speeches. 

“I would like that thank my parents and Jeyne’s for their support. We know you’ve all put a great deal of time and effort into this wedding and we wouldn’t be here without you. Thank you to the ushers – my brothers, Bran and Rickon, and Jeyne’s, Raynald and Rollam – and to our sisters Arya and Eleyna for acting as bridesmaids. To my best man Jon, who I’ve known since before either of us could spell our own names and who gave up his many, many holiday weekends from his teaching job to come to Winterfell and listen to rambling conversations about centrepieces and flowers and wedding lists. I owe you one.”

Jon nodded and raised his glass to Robb’s. 

“My sister, Sansa, who acted as maid of honour and de-facto wedding planner. Without you, Jeyne and I would probably still be organizing this wedding a year and a half from now. You have the patience of a saint and our eternal gratitude for introducing us. And so, we have a token of our thanks. I think Shella is here with it.” Robb gestured to the events co-ordinator, who was approaching them with a large bouquet of winter roses he and Robb had placed an order for during their trip into town the previous day. 

Jon smiled at the pretty blush on Sansa’s cheeks at the sight of it. She hugged Robb and then Jeyne, grinning broadly. Jon caught the brightness of her eyes and knew she was holding back tears. Robb whispered something in her ear and she looked over his shoulder at Jon. _Thank you_ , she mouthed, and he knew Robb must’ve told Sansa it was his idea.

“And finally, the biggest thank you goes to my wife”, said Robb, once Sansa had returned to her seat. “Thank you for putting up with me and being patient when I forget you’re right about everything.” That got a laugh. “Mostly, I want to thank you for making me happier than I’ve ever been and for agreeing to spend the rest of our lives together. So, I would like everyone to raise their glasses to the best of brides, Jeyne Stark.”

“Jeyne Stark!” Jon echoed along with everyone else. He could hear the happiness Robb felt in getting to call Jeyne that for the first time. That had been a topic of discussion, he knew, though it had been up to Jeyne in the end. She’d flirted with the idea of Westerling-Stark for a while, before deciding to commit to Stark as a sign of her commitment to Robb. 

Once they had all toasted Jeyne, everyone else settled themselves and Jon had to stand to give the final speech. He filled his glass of wine and took a long pull on it. _Just like a class of students, just like a class of students_ , he reminded himself. And yet he had the same nerves he’d experienced during his first student teacher placement at White Harbour South High.

“Firstly, I would like to echo Robb’s thanks to the wedding party, to Mr. and Mrs. Stark and Mr. and Mrs. Westerling. To the ushers and bridesmaids and to the amazing maid of honour – Sansa, I will stand witness to you having the patience of not one but _several_ saints.” He smiled at her and raised his glass gently. Not long now, and she would be in his arms. 

“As Robb said, he and I have known each other for a very long time. Last night, Sansa talked about the first time she met Jeyne. I – I remember going out to a White Harbour pub one Friday night during my first student teaching placement. Robb hadn’t wanted to go out that night initially, but changed his mind later on. I remember the way his face lit up when he got talking to his sister’s new friend.”

He and Sansa had ended up spending ages talking about how she was settling into White Harbour while Robb and Jeyne got acquainted. 

“I remembered earlier today when we were out in the godswood the first Christmas after Jeyne and Robb met. She’d gone back to Crag for the holidays and Robb and I to Winterfell. We were out at one of our old haunts and we’d had more than a few drinks. There was a group of people at the table next to us celebrating an engagement and Robb blurted out that one day, he was going to marry Jeyne. And I knew it was true. Even though they’d only known each other for a little under three months. I wish you both all the happiness in the world. Now, I would like everyone to fill their glasses again and raise them to Robb and Jeyne, the new Mr. and Mrs. Stark!”

“Robb and Jeyne”, Jon repeated along with everyone else.

-

Jon Snow had never been a dancer. He would fully admit that to anyone who thought to question it. He would also admit – though possibly not to anyone named Stark, at least not at this particular moment in time – that he hadn’t enjoyed dancing as much with anyone as he did tonight with Sansa Stark. It was both permitted and expected that one hand would be entwined with hers and the other on her waist. 

It was both permitted and expected that they would dance closely. 

Robb and Jeyne had started them all off and then Jon had taken Sansa’s hand and led her onto the dancefloor. “Thank you for the flowers. Robb said they were your idea.”

“I take issue with his argument it would’ve taken an extra year and a half if you hadn’t been helping out. I think it would’ve been long enough for them to have had at least one child in the wedding.” Sansa chuckled, deep and low. “What? It’s true. So…to change the subject……I’m a crap dancer. I can hold onto you and shuffle my feet, while hoping I don’t stand on yours, but that’s about it. But, I want to dance with you tonight. As many times as you want.” Jon took in a deep breath. “And not just as a way of keeping you away from your aunt’s creepy husband.”

“I’d like that”, Sansa replied. “I have to dance with Raynald and Rollam – and there’s the father/daughter dance – but I’d like that, Jon. I’d like that a lot.”

He spent the rest of the dance murmuring increasingly flirty things in her ear. Jon could talk dirty if he had to and from the way her tongue would dart out and then that little nibble on her bottom lip…..it would appear that Sansa was more than amenable to it. 

“You’re a tease, Jon Snow”, she whispered in his ear. 

“It’s only teasing if I don’t make good on it.” He looked at her, trying to make it clear that he wanted tonight to end just like the last two had.

“Then you should.” 

-

As promised, Jon spent a great deal of the ensuing couple of hours dancing with Sansa. He looked across the room at her now, talking to Edmure and Roslin. She turned for a moment and caught his eye. Jon felt there something almost caveman-like about the way he wanted to take Sansa by the hand and lead her up to his room for the night. In the past, with his sexual relationships, it hadn’t always clicked the first time as they explored and figured out what each other liked.

With Sansa, that side of things had just been so right immediately. 

Not that sex was everything, of course, but it was definitely _something_. And having that be so right do quickly highlighted for him that everything else worked too. He had to admit to himself that perhaps he’d had feelings for Sansa for longer than he’d recognized. 

“Such a cliché, Snow. The best man and the maid of honour? Really? You’re not normally so mainstream.”

“Hey, Theon.” Jon turned to see his friend sipping on a jack and coke.

“Not denying it, I see. Not that I’d believe it if you did. You and Sansa have been eye-fucking each other all night. You’re lucky Robb is so caught up in Jeyne. Can I be there when you tell him? I can’t imagine anything more entertaining. Do you remember when that exchange student – what was his name again? _Hardyng_ , wasn’t it? _Hard-on_ Hardyng? From Gulltown Tech? – yes, when he tried his luck with Sansa our Robb was _not_ a happy Starkling.”

“Don’t you have a date to pester?” Jon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he cursed Theon’s intuition. He had always possessed a gift for reading attraction. 

“Oh, I’m off to find one of Jeyne’s old school friends. I got to know Marla a lot better in the hotel bar last night and I think we need to build on our acquaintance.” He had a wide grin on his face. Theon was one of his best friends, but Jon would be the first to admit he could be a bit of an ass sometimes. “Enjoy your night, Snow.”

Jon went to the bar and ordered another glass of wine each for himself and Sansa – red for him and white for her – before walking over to where she had just hugged her cousins, aunt and uncle goodnight. 

“Here.”

“Thanks.” Sansa smiled at him and took a drink. She leaned into him. “Did I see you talking to Theon? I had a very strange conversation with him earlier. He asked if I was seeing anyone and – well, it was a very strange conversation.”

“Theon is nosy. He’s one of my best friends but there are certain things I don’t trust him with.” _Like_ _you_.

“There you are.” Jon turned round to see Robb and Jeyne behind him. 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked. 

“Yeah. I was just saying to Jeyne that now would be a good time to introduce you to Rowan. I know you – she’s really nice and from near Queenscrown originally. She’s been working with Jeyne for a while now, a teen counsellor, and I really think the two of you would be good together. You could ask her for a dance and then see how things go.”

Jon winced as he felt Sansa straighten up and her warmth moved away from his shoulder. He missed it. “My answer is still _no_ , Robb. I told you yesterday. I appreciate the thought but I don’t want to be set up.”

“I really – “

“He said no.” Jon turned and smiled at Sansa. “You wouldn’t force someone on me, Robb. Is it fair to do that to Jon?”

Robb’s neck reddened. “I wasn’t _forcing_ – I just thought they might be good for – that they’d get along.”

“Why don’t we just leave it?” Jeyne suggested. She smiled at all of them, a brightness that came from pure happiness. “Come on, I love this song. Why don’t we dance to it?”

They walked towards the other dancing couples as the wedding singer’s dulcet tones filled the room with the words of Tallad the Tall. Jon wasn’t quite sure what to say. Should he have told her that Robb wanted to set him up with one of Jeyne’s co-workers? Or was that really part of the talk they still really, really needed to have?

But before Jon could say anything to Sansa, they were approached by her aunt and uncle. 

“Aunt Lysa, are you enjoying the evening?” He couldn’t imagine Arya asking such a thing. When they were growing up, Sansa was always praised far more than her sister for her politeness and manners. It had taken Jon a long time to realize that she and Arya were of the same mind far more often than was evident – Sansa was just a lot better than her sister at hiding it.

“My trout was undercooked.” Her aunt shook her head. “I’m sure we’ve been blacklisted because I complained about Robin’s lunch the day we arrived.” Lysa sniffed. “And I’m not at all sure about this wedding singer. Where did your brother find her?”

“Thomasina came recommended by the events co-ordinator, and Robb and Jeyne liked the demo CD she sent. Her father was a wedding singer himself, apparently, and they sang together until his death a few years ago. She worked with Robb and Jeyne on the playlist.”

As Sansa spoke to Lysa Baelish, Jon took in the way her husband’s greedy eyes ran up and down Sansa. He cracked his knuckles and suppressed his desire to hit the man – something he knew Robb and Ned had been forced to restrain themselves from doing more than once. 

“You defend her vocal qualities so eloquently, Sansa”, Baelish drawled. “Your aunt doesn’t enjoy dancing any longer but I would be happy to take a turn about the dance floor with you.”

“I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible.” Sansa slipped her arm into his. “You see, Jon and I were dancing to that Marillion song – _you know the one_ – and Jon accidentally stood on my foot. I need to drive back to Winterfell tomorrow and it can be so difficult to do with a sore foot or ankle, I find, so I thought it best not to dance again tonight.”

She sounded so regretful and spoke so sincerely that Jon would never have doubted the truth in her words, had he not known that it was a big fat lie. They had danced a number of times, he and Sansa, but it was a matter of pride for Jon that he _hadn’t_ stood on her foot.

“I’m not sure dancing would be wise in any case, Petyr.” Jon followed an accusatory finger that was pointing towards the dancefloor. He furrowed his brow. Yes, there were couples dancing, but there were fewer than earlier so it was not overcrowded. Robb and Jeyne were there, along with Ned and Catelyn. Gendry’s half-sister Myrcella was dancing with her boyfriend. He caught sight of Wylla and a few other WHU friends and their partners. Gendry’s uncle. 

“Would you look at that? Brazen, in the middle of the dance floor. Disgusting is what I call it. Proof Westeros is going to ruin. When I was Sansa’s age you would _never_ see two _men_ dancing together like that.”

“That’s Gendry’s uncle Renly, Mrs. Baelish.” Jon wondered at her not knowing – as far as he was aware, Lysa’s first husband had been a mentor of sorts to Robert Baratheon, Renly’s eldest brother. “They’ve been married a few years now.”

“Three”, Sansa added. “They were the second couple to be married after the legalization. I remember Loras being mad that they weren’t first. Some Dornish couple beat them to it.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve seen some things – then there’s those two girls your father’s brother has. Those piercings and that hair! Not ladylike at all, though I’m not sure you can expect more from _Bear Island_ girls. I would be mortified if Robin had such a girlfriend. Not that he would, of course. And I saw a woman in line for the bathroom – green hair, I tell you.”

“That would be Wylla”, Jon supplied. “She was at WHU with me and Robb.” Jon thought it best not to bring up the topic of her girlfriend, though he was sure if Wylla got wind of Lysa Baelish’s ignorant and prejudiced views then she would take great pleasure in kissing Allara right in front of the woman before loudly relating whatever they’d got up to in bed the night before.

Jon wondered briefly what it would be like to be a fly on the wall in a conversation between Lysa Baelish and Sybell Westerling. He then shivered and decided perhaps he’d never like to find out.

-

“Gendry and I are heading up to our room now. What time tomorrow?” Arya asked him. Robb and Jeyne had gone up to the honeymoon suite an hour earlier and most of the guests were now leaving, heading in the direction of the hotel bar or their own rooms.

“What time for what?”

“Going home? I mean, you’re staying with us so I figured – unless you want to get the train back?”

Jon paused and turned to Sansa. “That was something I was going to speak to you about. I……wondered if you wanted a hand sorting things out? Tomorrow? I could stay and help in exchange for a ride. A ride back to Winterfell, that is.” He had hoped to have this conversation with her in private, but Arya seemed to have pre-empted that. 

“Stay and help – yeah.” Sansa seemed to catch on. “Yeah, that would be good. You’re a lifesaver, Jon.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far”, said Arya, rolling her eyes. She leaned into a nook in Gendry’s arms and yawned. “Don’t stay up too late – and don’t forget your _bouquet_.”

Sansa flushed a little as they both wished her sister a good night. Jon wasn’t sure what Sansa had to be embarrassed about. Jeyne had practically flung the bouquet in Sansa’s direction when everyone called upon her to toss it. Jon wasn’t superstitious but he wondered if Sansa was in some ways. She was taking that Mythology and Folklore course, after all. 

After Arya and Gendry had gone upstairs, the rest of the Starks followed and soon there was only Jon and Sansa to thank the staff and check nobody had left anything behind. “Most of them have gone to the bar. I’m sure they’re more likely to lose stuff there”, Sansa reasoned. She picked up the flowers and started to move towards the exit. 

“You’re ready?” Jon asked. Sansa nodded. 

All the way up to their floor, as they rode the elevator, all Jon could think about was Sansa riding _him_. The tension in the air was palpable. His senses were on high alert and he could feel every movement Sansa made next to him, hear every hitch in her breath, smell her perfume. When the elevator pinged, all Jon wanted to do was push the stop button, lock them in and wrap her legs around his waist. 

He held back, however, as they exited the elevator. He held back as they walked along the corridor. He held back until the moment they were in his room and the door was closed. Jeyne’s – now Sansa’s – bouquet fell to the floor the second Jon’s mouth was on Sansa’s neck and her fingers were in his hair. 

“ _So good_ ”, he moaned into her neck. Jon kissed his way up her jaw and then sucked on that sensitive little spot behind her ear. “I want you to ride my face….and then I want you to ride my cock.” Jon swiped his thumbs over the curve of Sansa’s breasts. He couldn’t wait to see them bouncing as Sansa rode him with abandon. “Does that sound good to you?”

Sansa pulled away from him and nodded. Her pupils were already darker. She took a step forward, grabbed Jon’s hand and led him to the bed. 


	4. Sunday - Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read this fic and left kudos and comments, and those who have bookmarked. This one is for all of you! :)

When her eyes fluttered open on Sunday morning, Sansa felt the bliss of waking up naturally and not in reaction to a blaring alarm. Jon snored lightly behind her in short bursts. His legs were entwined with hers, his arm was wrapped around Sansa, enveloping her in his embrace, and she could feel Jon’s half-hard cock behind her. 

For the third consecutive morning Sansa woke with the achy feeling that came with having been truly and soundly well fucked. She was no virgin – had not been since her final year at Winterfell High – but it hadn’t been until the last couple of days that Sansa had come to the realization that her previous partners had been somewhat _lacking_. 

Jon Snow had made her toes curl and her back arch in ways no man ever had before.

Sansa carefully extracted herself from Jon’s embrace and turned round to face him. He looked so peaceful. She smiled at him. When they shared breakfast and a walk on Thursday morning, Sansa could never have predicted how the ensuing almost seventy two hours would unfold. It had taken so much courage for her to direct his attention to her sitting on his bed on Thursday night and then again the following evening, to turn up at his door with the condoms. But her courage had been rewarded over and over and over again. 

Twice on Thursday night, thrice on Friday and the same again the night before. 

And that was before she started counting the times Jon had made her almost forget her own name with just his mouth or his fingers. 

Today, they would finally be able to talk. _Finally_. She didn’t think he would agree to spend hours on end with her in a car if that discussion was potentially going to end badly – which meant that Jon clearly wanted to explore this thing between them further just as much as she did. 

He’d have a few days in Winterfell before he returned to Queenscrown to pack up his things, but Sansa knew from their conversations at Harrenhal that Jon didn’t intend for that to take long. He wanted to be settled into his new classroom before the semester started. 

After that…..

Sansa saw his eyes begin to flutter open and smiled at the deep Northern burr in his voice when he spoke. 

“Morning.”

“Morning”, Sansa replied. She’d heard the party of the night before in Jon’s voice and she heard it now in her own. Sansa didn’t feel hungover, though. That was a blessing at least, Sansa thought as she felt Jon’s light touch on her hip, his fingers giving her goosebumps. 

“I like waking up this way”, Jon told her. “With you.”

“Do you?”

“Aye, I do.” Jon moved forward and captured her mouth with his. Jon’s hand moved from her hip to her back and his fingers danced up and down her spine as his tongue began another dance with hers. Sansa had to admit she quite liked waking up this way too. 

Sansa’s fingers found their way into Jon’s hair and tightened around the curls tucked behind his ear. She’d spent more time than she would’ve imagined over the last three nights with her fingers tugging on Jon’s hair as his mouth brought her high after high after high. 

Then her leg was hooked around his and they were closer and closer, Sansa feeling his hardness between them, their moans merging and urging each other on and on and on.

“Gods, this feels good”, Jon murmured into her lips. Sansa felt him pull away a little and whined at the loss of contact. Jon grinned. She opened her eyes and saw him looking back, the hunger he felt clear. “How about…….I call down to reception, order us breakfast for half an hour, forty-five minutes from now and we use the time to treat ourselves to a shower?”

“That sounds good to me.” Sansa grabbed at her phone. It was a little after nine and Robb and Jeyne were not due to leave for the airport until around eleven. They would both be expected downstairs to wave them off. There was time. Sansa ignored the social media notifications and updates on her phone – most likely she’d just been tagged in a few wedding pictures – and set it back down on the table. 

“What do you feel like eating for breakfast?” Jon asked. 

_You_. “Scrambled eggs on toast with some bacon. Crispy, but not burnt. And coffee.”

“That sounds good”, said Jon as he picked up the hotel phone. “Morning, this is room 517. I’d like to order breakfast to be delivered to my room, please. Could I have two portions of scrambled eggs on toast please – and a side of toast.” Jon placed his hand over the receiver. “White bread or wholemeal?”

“Wholemeal.” Sansa found white bread too doughy and stodgy. Great as period comfort food, but not so much the rest of the time. 

“Wholemeal”, Jon told the receptionist. “Could we get crispy bacon – nut burnt – on both portions and a side rack of wholemeal toast? And coffee for two. Could we get that delivered at ten, please? Is that possible? Excellent. Thank you.”

Jon replaced the receiver and grinned at Sansa. “Shower?”

“Shower.” Sansa ignored the voice at the back of her head that was primly reminding her of her dislike of hotel-issue toiletries – though perhaps Jon had brought his own? – and instead informed it that one hair wash minus her usual shampoo and conditioner wouldn’t ruin her hair, nor would a different body wash impact badly upon her skin. Besides, they were at _Harrenhal_. Given the expense of staying here, Sansa doubted they did such things on the cheap.

Sansa took the hand Jon offered and entwined their fingers with a smile. She followed him into the large bathroom that was similar to her own. The fixtures were marble and the very image of wealth and luxury. Jon began running the water and turned to kiss her, leaving it to warm. By the time his mouth had left Sansa’s, the large mirror was as covered in a cloud of steam as the shower cubicle itself. 

“Ladies first”, Jon gestured. 

Sansa felt the warm water wash over her skin, a sensation followed swiftly by Jon wrapping his arms around her from behind. He was kissing that sweet place where Sansa’s neck met her shoulder and his hard cock was pressed up against her ass.

“Is this alright?” Jon murmured as his hands massaged her breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing over her nipples. 

“So good”, Sansa moaned. It felt like every inch of her skin was on fire. Jon kissed and nipped and sucked away at her shoulder like a man in a feeding frenzy and Sansa moved his hands lower and lower until she could stand it no more. She spun around, allowed the relative coolness of the marble to kiss her back, and brought his fingers to her mound. 

Sansa needed some part of Jon inside her, to ease that ache she felt between her legs, and she needed it _now_. 

Jon resumed the attention he was paying to her shoulder, only this time it was in tune with the finger and then fingers he had inside of her. Sansa could feel that coil in her belly tighten and tighten and the ache between her legs turn to throbbing. 

“ _Jon_.” She moaned his name. Then again and again. “ _Jon_. _Jon_.” Louder and louder each time. “Yes, _like that_. Oh, _fuck_ just like that.” The water from the shower was streaming down her face and then down the valley between her breasts, where Jon’s mouth had now travelled briefly before Sansa found it on hers. She moaned into his mouth now as his fingers moved in and out of her faster and faster and faster than before. 

Until Sansa crested a wave and screamed Jon’s name into his mouth. 

Sansa could feel herself sagging, but Jon kept her upright. He pulled his fingers out of Sansa and licked her juices from them. When Sansa kissed him, she could taste herself on Jon’s tongue and it turned her on more than she’d thought it could. 

His eyes were such a dark grey now they were only black and Sansa could only imagine how close Jon was. 

“Your turn now”, she whispered in his ear. Sansa lowered herself to the floor, her hands roaming Jon’s body as she did so. His abs were taut and he whimpered as her fingers dug into his butt cheeks. Yes, _close_. So _deliciously close_. 

She wasn’t the most experienced at this but she wanted to explore it with Jon. Sansa trusted Jon as she realized she’d never really trusted any other man she’d been with. She started off small, with light pecks and licks and allowed the deep, rumbling moans coming from Jon to guide her. He chanted her name. “ _Sansa_. _Sansa_. _Sansa_.” And she took him into her mouth. 

Sansa moved her hands round and swiped the pads of the thumbs over his balls, eliciting the loudest curse she’d ever heard leave Jon’s mouth. Sansa felt herself smile as her head bobbed up and down, as her tongue licked and her lips sucked. Water streamed down her face and into her eyes but Sansa simply ignored it.

Jon was close from the start, though, and she could feel him let go and his seed filled her mouth. Sansa did something she’d never really done consciously before, and swallowed. She recalled the tart taste on Jon’s lips that had been her and compared it to the salt of Jon. 

When she stood up again, Jon cradled her face in his hands and kissed her softly, gently, reverently. There was an intimacy to it that she didn’t think they’d had since their worlds had collided on Thursday night. Sansa was reminded again that they still hadn’t really talked – but spending hours upon hours alone in a car together was a positive sign that this was about more than just sex for Jon. 

He pulled away and smiled at her. 

Jon grabbed at the body wash and a lemony scent filled the steamy air when he opened it. “So, who gets to lather who in this first, then?”

-

Sansa was lying atop the bed, wrapped in a comfy, thick _Harrenhal_ robe and cuddled up in Jon’s arms when there was a knock at the door. 

“Room service!” Sansa heard a voice call out and her stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Jon had only been enough to sate her for so long. He kissed her lightly and then got up to open the door and bring in the cart with their food. 

She had a momentary ordering regret when she realized some fruit would’ve been welcome but the food and coffee smelled delicious and Sansa let the thought subside. Jon tipped the porter and pulled the cart into the room, setting it up next to the table opposite the bed. There was something very domestic about the way he laid everything out, from the coffee to the food to the cutlery. Sansa felt a pull in her chest at the thought of doing this on a future Sunday morning. In her apartment. 

“Breakfast is served”, said Jon. Sansa moved over and sat down next to him, diving into the crispy bacon while Jon poured them both coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”

Sansa shook her head. “I think I’m probably better having it black this morning.” It would be a long day and she had a long drive ahead. Sansa’s insurance didn’t permit anyone else to drive her car, so they couldn’t split it. 

“The best way to have coffee. Straight up.”

Sansa laughed at that and began to gather some scrambled eggs on a small cut of toast. She tried to ignore the fact that she and Jon would need to be sneaky to get her across the hall to her room unseen. Jon had offered her a pair of shorts and an old band t-shirt, but Sansa knew she’d at least have to carry her dress across the hallway and said she’d be fine in the robe for now. Her bridesmaid dress would need to go back on when she left.

“This food is really good”, Sansa said through a mouthful of egg. 

“Definitely.” Jon took a drink of coffee and then took her hand in his. He threaded their fingers together and Sansa was about to point out it wasn’t overly conducive to eating breakfast when the look in his eyes stopped her. “After you’ve been good enough to give me a second opinion on the places I’m thinking about buying, will you let me take you out to dinner? Not as a thank you, but because I want to have dinner with you and you want to have dinner with me?”

“That sounds very much like a _date_.”

“It does.” His eyes didn’t leave hers. Sansa smiled. 

“I would like to go on a date with you. I would like that very much.”

“So would I.” Jon’s fingers left hers, but they reached up then to tuck some loose, damp hair behind Sansa’s ear. “I would really like that. I’ve – Sansa this weekend’s been so much more amazing than I ever thought it could be. But, you’re more than just sex to me.”

“You’re more than that to me, too.” 

Jon smiled. “Come on. Let’s finish this breakfast before the food goes cold.” A phone began to ring in the background and Sansa quickly identified it as Jon’s ring tone. He got up and went to answer it. “Hey, ma. How are you? Sore head this morning?” Sansa heard him say. She grinned. Sansa had always liked Lyanna. 

“Yeah, it was good. Listen this isn’t the best time, ma. I’m just having some breakfast. I’ll call you back in half an hour? Good. Speak to you then.” Jon came back over to join her. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. How’s Lyanna?”

“Hydrating and hoping painkillers work. She doesn’t party as much as she used to.”

“You make her sound _old_.”

Jon snorted. “Don’t tell _her_ that. She’s closer to fifty than to forty now and a bit touchy about it.” Sansa always forgot how young Lyanna had been when Jon was born. Not even twenty. “She was gutted the dates for Robb and Allyria’s weddings clashed, but she couldn’t really ask Arthur’s sister to change the date just so she could see me stand up with Robb in the godswood.” He stretched out and yawned.

“Don’t”, said Sansa, finding her own jaw moving in sympathy. It had been after one by the time they’d turned off the light and gone to sleep in each other’s arms. Jon had wanted her to ride his face and then his cock and Sansa had happily obliged. They’d lain there, curled up, exploring each other with their mouths and hands, for a while before going again and then again. 

When she’d arrived at _Harrenhal_ at dinnertime on Tuesday, Sansa had foreseen several days of stress laid out in front of her. She could never have anticipated how much relief Jon could bring from that. How boneless and sated she could be in his arms. How close he could bring her to forgetting her own name.

She took a final bite of her breakfast before leaning back in her chair and sighing. “That was good.”

“It was. The food’s been good all week, actually. It isn’t _Northern_ food, but it’s been good.”

“Biased, are we?”

“Always. I couldn’t live anywhere but the North, I don’t think.”

Sansa reflected on that. “Yeah, I don’t think I could either. At least – not indefinitely. I could manage it for a few months. Perhaps a year? But not permanently.” She picked up her coffee and drained the cup, feeling the caffeine course through her veins. 

“I’ll get that”, said Jon when Sansa went to clear away her things onto the cart the porter had brought up. He took Sansa’s cutlery and plate and returned it to the warmer on the cart, doing the same with his own. Jon kissed her forehead gently. “Let me spoil you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at that. She wasn’t used to being spoiled. Not really. At least, not by someone who wasn’t related to her.

“Next time, I’ll spoil you”, she told him. Images of this in her apartment passed through Sansa’s mind again. Jon was already set to stay with Arya and Gendry if he had to wait a few weeks to move into whichever property he purchased but that wouldn’t preclude him spending the night with Sansa. She winced internally at the thought of staying over at Arya’s with Jon. Her sister considered Jon another brother and if the last few nights were anything to go by, Sansa and Jon had some work to do if they wanted to be quiet enough they wouldn’t disturb the peace of whomever was in the next room.

At least if they stayed at Sansa’s, Alys would most likely be over at Sigorn’s.

“That’s a deal”, Jon replied. 

There was a further knock at the door – one Sansa could tell from the look on Jon’s face that was unexpected – and he called out again, asking who was there. 

“It’s Arya. You going to let me in?”

Sansa gulped. She and Jon hadn’t discussed telling her family about their burgeoning relationship. They had spent the last three nights together, but had yet to go on a date. Sansa didn’t want extra pressure and the thought that Arya considered Jon another brother returned to the forefront of her mind. Besides, it was clear to anyone who saw them like this that Sansa had spent the night in Jon’s bed rather than her own.

“I’ll – I’m going to the bathroom”, she told Jon. She slipped in there while Jon went to answer the door. Leaving the bathroom door ajar, she could hear what was said. 

“You weren’t at breakfast”, she could hear Arya say. 

“I ordered room service. Just got out of the shower.”

“You haven’t heard from Sansa this morning, have you? I mean, there wasn’t some best man and maid of honor thing you guys had to go to? I’ve been calling and messaging her all morning but she isn’t replying, and she isn’t answering her door.”

Sansa took her phone out of the pocket of her robe and realized she’d turned it off by mistake when she checked the time before her shower with Jon. She went to turn it back on and read Arya’s messages, but stopped when she remembered the loud noise it made when the phone was switched on at first. There’s no way Arya wouldn’t hear it. 

“Sansa hasn’t called me this morning.” Technically true; you didn’t phone someone when you woke up next to them in bed and shared your shower with them. “She could’ve gone for an early morning swim.”

“The morning after Robb’s wedding?” Arya sounded suitably incredulous and Sansa stifled a giggle. 

“I don’t know. Maybe Sansa’s in the shower. Uhm, I need to go and get dressed and call my mother. I’ll see you downstairs when Robb and Jeyne leave?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you will. If you hear from Sansa then let her know I was looking for her.”

“I will do – anything in particular?”

“Just wanted to touch base. When will you guys be leaving?”

“I’m not sure. I need to find out from Sansa what errands we need to run and so on.”

“Okay. I’ll catch you in a bit, Snow.”

“Bye.”

Sansa breathed a small sigh of relief when she heard Jon close the door and he opened the one she was hiding behind. She raised her phone. “I turned it off earlier by mistake.” Secure in the knowledge Arya wouldn’t be able to hear it now, Sansa switched her phone back on and saw she had three missed calls from her sister and a further three messages. The first asked if she was already down for breakfast, the second if she wanted Arya and Gendry to grab her some breakfast before the staff stopped serving it, and the third asked if she was even awake and up.

“I’ll send her a message saying I got room service and had a bath”, Sansa told Jon as she began typing away. “Arya knows I can spend an hour in a good bubble bath without realizing how much time has passed.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll – when we get back to Winterfell, I can tell her that our dinner is actually a date. If that’s alright with you?”

Jon smiled, and then pulled her in for a kiss. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s alright with me.”

-

Just before eleven, Sansa went downstairs to wave Robb and Jeyne off on their honeymoon. Riverlands International Airport was around an hour’s drive away and their flight to the Summer Isles was due to leave mid-afternoon. The sun shone as brightly as it had the day before and the day promised to be a warm one, leaving Sansa relieved that she’d brought this strappy sundress. 

“I’m sure we’ll see you in the departures lounge later on”, Sansa heard Uncle Benjen tell Robb. She stood back a little, next to Jon, while the newlyweds bade each family member farewell in turn. Uncle Ben and his family were flying back to Torrhen’s Square that afternoon and then on to Bear Island a couple of hours later. Sansa felt a pang of disappointment that they’d be saying goodbye so soon. 

Jon was right – she should have a proper holiday. Or two. Perhaps a few days on Bear Island on one break and a few in Riverrun with Edmure, Roslin and the rest on another.

When her brother approached her, Sansa could see pure happiness in his eyes, along with a modicum of relief. The wedding planning had been incredibly stressful and Sansa knew part of Robb must be relieved to finally be married. 

“Thank you once again for everything, little sister”, Robb murmured in her ear. “We’ll never forget everything you’ve done for us. I promise.”

“I hope you have a good time in the Summer Isles. And remember the sunscreen! Your skin is just as sensitive as mine is. Just think of all the jokes Arya would make for the rest of our lives if you come back looking like a peeling tomato.” Robb laughed and then hugged her tighter. 

“I’ll remember the sunscreen”, he promised. Then he moved on to speak to Bran and Meera and Jeyne was in front of her. Sansa hugged her best friend tightly. 

“You look so happy”, she told Jeyne. 

“I feel it. I feel light and airy and as if a massive weight has been lifted from my shoulders.” Sansa laughed and pulled back. Jeyne reached over and adjusted her hair, got a strange look on her face and then arranged Sansa’s still-damp hair the way it had been when she came down. “Think that’s best. Don’t want big brother acting all big brother in front of everyone, do we?”

Sansa was puzzled and it must’ve showed, because Jeyne leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I hope whoever left those marks on your shoulder showed you a good time last night.” Sansa wondered if she imagined the way Jeyne’s head tilted in Jon’s direction. “When I come back from honeymoon, we’re going out for cocktails and then I want you to tell me everything! I’m an old married woman now. I need to live vicariously through someone else.”

“You’re not old”, Sansa reminded her. Then she added, in a lower voice, “and there will be a _date_ to tell you about when you come back. Though maybe don’t mention it to Robb. I don’t want him interfering.” Robb would undoubtedly be supportive of her and Jon, but it wouldn’t stop him from interfering and acting the big brother.

Jeyne took a step back. “When it comes to interfering in your life, Robb will do as he’s _told_.”

“Speaking of him doing as he’s told, remind him he needs to use sunscreen. The highest factor there is. Otherwise Arya’s teasing is all on him.”

“I will do.”

And then it seemed like only moments later that Jeyne and Robb were pulling out of their parking space, waving a last goodbye and driving off into the distance. “I hope he remembers to text when he gets there. I want to know they’ve arrived safely”, her mother said. Sansa smiled at the sight of her parents, arm in arm, and looking slightly bereft. Robb had been living in a flat in the centre of Winterfell with Jeyne since he’d graduated from White Harbour and moved back to their home town, but in marrying he was starting a new life and a new family unit that was both part of and apart from the rest of them. 

“I’m sure he will”, her father replied. He looked around at the rest of them. “Is everyone packed? Checkout is at twelve thirty, and even then it will be late when we get back to Winterfell.”

“Gendry and I are good to go”, said Arya. “I think we’re just going to load up the car and get moving. He has to work tomorrow. Also, we said we’d drop Myrcella and Trystane off at the train station. Renly and Loras are booked in here for another night but we’re headed in that direction anyway. Did ‘Cella message you yet?”

“They’ll be ready in ten to fifteen”, Gendry replied. “Their train doesn’t leave until one but ‘Cella wants to get lunch at the place next to the station. She read some good reviews online.”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve got a rough idea when I’ll be back”, Jon told them. “You don’t need to wait up – I still have my key.”

“Is there a lot to be done, sweetheart?” her mother asked Sansa. “Could your father and I help with anything?”

“No, no. You make your way home. We have a couple of payments to drop off in the village and a final de-brief of sorts with Shella, the events co-ordinator. I’m sure it won’t take long at all.” Either way, Sansa wasn’t overly fussed. She had hours ahead of her alone in a car with Jon – and an outfit to mentally pick out for their date. Before that, however, she had to get back to her room and unpack the concealer she’d packed before coming down, so she could cover up whatever marks Jon had left on her.

Thank the gods Jeyne had seen that and not her mother or Arya. That would’ve led to _a lot_ more than a promise to gossip over cocktails.

The conversation continued as Rickon announced his intention to travel back with Bran and Meera rather than their parents and her father reminded everyone about the roadworks they’d all avoided on the way down from Moat Cailin. Sansa took in bits and pieces of it, but found herself distracted by thoughts of Jon and the woodsy scent coming off him. Hours and hours they would have together, travelling back to Winterfell. _Alone_.

-

The errands at _Harrenhal_ itself had not taken long – as Sansa had always suspected would be the case. She’d had a short de-brief with Shella, which the hotel liked to do after every large event to gauge how successful it had been, and handed her some envelopes that Robb and Jeyne had left in her possession. There were generous tips for the reception and wait staff and for housekeeping. 

In reality, Sansa could have done all this herself. She liked to think that Jon had offered his assistance to spend time with her rather than out of any notion of chivalry.

As she double checked everything was secure in the trunk and back seat, Sansa reflected that it was a shame the hotel was so expensive. It would be lovely to come back at a later date (perhaps with Jon her hopeful and traitorous mind whispered) and enjoy a relaxing weekend here. One in which she was beholden to her own whims and fancies rather than those of others. 

“All ready?” Jon asked. He rested his arms on the open passenger door and squinted at her through the sunshine. 

“Ready”, Sansa agreed. She glanced at her watch and saw it wasn’t long after two. Realistically, they weren’t _that far_ behind everyone else. Even taking into account their stop-off in the village they would still make it to Winterfell at a reasonable hour. Settling herself into the car and switching the air con on, Sansa reflected again that it was a shame everyone else’s departure had to be so rushed. There were a few people – some friends of Robb and Jeyne’s she knew a little – that it would’ve been nice to say farewell to. 

Perhaps it was for the best that her parents were the ones who had to bid farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Westerling.

“Here we go”, Sansa sighed. “Music or not?”

“Not”, Jon replied. “Where is it we need to stop off in the village?”

“I need to drop a payment with the florist – I can just put that through the door, it’ll be closed today in any case – and I need to pay the seamstress who came over on Friday to check over the dresses.” Sansa had added to the tip Jeyne had put in, knowing how abrasive Sybell Westerling had been during the fitting. She supposed Amabel must be used to it, but that didn’t excuse Mrs. Westerling’s behaviour. 

Jon’s phone pinged and he laughed after reading the message. “Arthur – my mother’s returned to her bed and declared the day a write-off. He says she has sworn off wine for good. My guess is that lasts a week at most. One of her girlfriends or Ashara will invite her out for lunch and there’ll be a bottle of Dornish red for the table.” 

“Yeah, hangovers don’t clear up like they did when we were eighteen anymore, do they?”

“They don’t. I was in bed for almost two days after the end of semester party the History department at Queenscrown gave me. It doubled as a leaving party and I think they used that as an excuse to buy in double the booze we normally had.”

“Will you miss them?”

“I will. I made some good friends there. But, I have even better friends in Winterfell. It isn’t like I won’t ever go back to Queenscrown – I mean, I’ll visit and stuff, even if I won’t live there again. Like White Harbour.”

Sansa laughed. “Do you remember the big Valentine’s party Theon had after he split with – what was that girls name again?”

“Theon’s had so many girlfriends it can be hard to remember, but I _definitely_ remember the party.”

“That was a night.”

“It was”, Jon agreed. 

Theon had invited all single people he knew – and some couples – to a party that ended when, having had a little too much to drink, he had accepted a dare to streak through the streets of White Harbour at three AM. Luckily for Theon, the police caught him returning to the building and accepted his tale of woe. There had only been a charge of disturbing the peace that he’d paid a small fine for. 

“Who dared him? Can you remember?” Sansa asked. 

“I’m pretty sure it was Smalljon. Sometimes I think back on what we got up to in White Harbour and cringe. At others I can’t quite believe it was something that happened in my life.”

“Can you look out for number seven – I think this is the right street”, said Sansa. They had entered a small village and Amabel had told her it was straight after the _Welcome_ sign. There were rows of pretty cottages on both sides of the road, their flowers in bloom and trees overflowing with fruits. It looked like something from a catalogue or a picture chosen to be turned into a jigsaw puzzle. 

“There it is”, said Jon. He pointed at a cottage painted in pale green with an immaculate lawn and a number _7_ wrought into the iron gate. Sansa parked the car and grabbed her purse from the back seat. Walking up the pathway she could tell that either Amabel or someone she lived with was a passionate horticulturist. There were roses and lilies and begonias of several colours, all brightly staring back at her.

Before she reached the door, it was opened by a smiling Amabel. “How did the wedding go on yesterday? It was a lovely day for it.”

“It was”, Sansa replied. “And it went off perfectly, thank you. I just wanted to drop this off.” She pulled out the envelope with Amabel’s name on the front and handed it over. “There’s what we agreed on plus a little extra. Thank you so much for your help.”

“That’s alright, my duck.”

“And I’m sorry if the mother of the bride was a bit – “

Amabel raised a hand. “Say no more. ‘Tis a stressful thing to have a child wed. I’ve seen all four of mine stand up in the Sept. Doesn’t matter if yours is the bride or groom. You just want everything to be perfect for them.” Sansa suspected Amabel was simply being polite but allowed her the privilege. Amabel looked around her. “Thank you for dropping this off. Do you and your young man have far to go?”

Sansa turned round to see Jon sitting in the car, looking at something on his phone. “We’ve a long day ahead but I don’t mind. Not really.” After all the interruptions they’d had over the last three days it was amazing to think she and Jon had hours before them in each other’s company.

“Say no more. I’ll let you get off. You take care on the roads, alright?”

“I will do.” Sansa walked back down the pathway and to the car. She could see a small square in the distance and what looked like a couple of shops. “Is that the florist down there?” she asked Jon, recalling he and Robb had been there on Friday, picking up the beautiful winter roses now lying on her back seat. 

“Yeah. It’ll just take a minute.”

Sansa pulled her seatbelt back on and drove down, stopping almost as soon as she’d started. There was a letterbox at the front of the shop and she posted Robb and Jeyne’s envelope through. “There”, Sansa grinned when she got back into the car. “That is us officially finished our best man and maid of honour duties. We are free!”

Jon laughed at that until they were out of the village. “Free for now. We’ll still be invited over to look through each and every one of the pictures Pia took. And you know at least one of them will ask your advice on which pictures should go in the official wedding album.”

“Alright, alright.” Sansa turned onto the road that would lead them to the highway north. “Killjoy”, she murmured. But she did so with a smile. 

“So…..I had a thought when you were paying the seamstress.” 

“Oh?”

“What if…..we had lunch before we left _Harrenhal_ and then got lost – thanks to my poor navigational skills – after I suggested we take the scenic route? It would get us back to Winterfell well after midnight. Better instead to stop off at Moat Cailin, perhaps. At the _Moat Cailin Arms_ to be precise. It’s a village pub with a hotel at the back. A hotel that, according to their website, still has a couple of free rooms for tonight.”

Sansa was sorely tempted. Another night in a hotel with Jon? Another night sharing a bed with Jon? Only……

“I don’t like lying about it.” She worried it would look later like they’d been ashamed of their relationship. 

“We wouldn’t be lying really……just fudging the truth a little bit.” Jon sighed. “No, you’re right. It would be a big fat lie.”

Sansa thought back to the last three nights and to that morning. Was it wrong to want to prolong that? To spend another night in Jon’s arms – one more of the three left before he returned to Queenscrown to pack up? Sansa thought of Jon’s mouth on her and how it made her feel. She thought of their morning shower. 

“That wouldn’t necessarily be a deal breaker. If you were to phone ahead and make a booking and they still weren’t full up, then I would consider that a sign”, she decided. “But you’re telling Arya. She can still regularly sniff out when I’m withholding something from her like a hound after meat. Too many years of growing up in the same house. It’s a miracle she hasn’t already figured us out already.” _Like I think Jeyne sort of has_.

Five minutes later, they had a confirmed booking. Two hours later, when they were stopped at a service station for fuel, Jon send Arya a brief message advising that they’d decided to stop off in Moat Cailin to break up their drive as they had not long passed through Lord Harroway’s Town.

-

They were around an hour away from Moat Cailin when the text message came through. It was late afternoon and Sansa was dreaming about what she could order from the _Moat Cailin Arms_ menu Jon had read out to her. The traffic had been steady for the last while and Sansa anticipated getting to the hotel early enough to have a good meal and an _“early”_ night with Jon. She’d bought yet more condoms at the service station and wondered if it was worth investing in the manufacturer. Certainly she and Jon seemed to be going through them quickly enough.

“It’s from Arya”, said Jon, raising his phone in her direction. Sansa frowned. Her sister had replied almost instantly to Jon’s earlier message saying she’d see them the following day. “She’s asking why we’re staying in a hotel and not with Meera’s dad.”

“Remind her that Uncle Howland is still recovering from having his appendix out. If he was too ill to come to the wedding then he’s too ill for visitors. And he’s on his own. Jyana went up to Whitetree to visit Jojen at that dig he’s on.” Jon typed away but Sansa was curious about why her sister had suggested it.

Less than a minute later, Arya was back. “She says _how convenient_ and _nice try_ …..”

“What?” 

“She says she saw Theon’s pictures so there’s no use pretending?”

Sansa was confused but her gut instinct told her that her sister had likely rumbled the reasons she and Jon had for spending the night in Moat Cailin. “Well?” Jon was scrolling through his phone, presumably at Theon’s social media. 

“Theon’s uploaded all his pictures from the wedding – not just last night, the entire weekend. We’re in A LOT of them”, Jon emphasized. “Cheeky fucker. Sorry, but at the reception he said he’d been watching me dancing with you and how obvious I was being. How obvious we were both being, actually. _Eye-fucking each other all night_ , was the expression he used.”

Something dawned on Sansa. “Shit. No, I remember having a weird conversation with him too. He asked me if I’d ever dated any of Robb’s friends or if I ever would. I thought he was coming on to me, but he just laughed and said he was more interested in Jeyne’s friend Marla. He must have been thinking of you.”

“He called us a cliché”, Jon grumbled. “We’re not a cliché, are we?”

“Nope.” Sansa didn’t say she’d had the same worries. It was what you made of it, though, and Sansa decided they’d only be a cliché if it was just the one night. Scratching an itch. From their conversation that morning it was clear there were real feelings and a real desire to explore them. 

Jon’s phone began to ring. “Arya”, he told her. “Hey, Arya. I’ll put you on speaker.”

“So, you guys have something you want to say? Gods, were you still there when I stopped by this morning, Sansa?”

“I was. We’d just finished breakfast.” Sansa saw no point in lying to her sister. “I was in the bathroom.”

“I don’t want the sordid details.” Sansa could almost see the look of revulsion on her sister’s face. 

“I’m taking your sister out on a date tomorrow night”, said Jon. Sansa’s eyes remained on the road but she could hear Jon’s smile in his voice.

“I should bloody well hope so, Snow. My sister deserves the best.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she does”, Jon agreed.

“Can I be there when you tell Robb? I feel someone has to record his reaction for historical reference.”

“Okay, I’m ending the call now, Arya. My battery is low.”

“Liar”, Arya laughed. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” 

Sansa sighed. “You were there the first time Gendry came over for dinner after he and Arya started dating.”

“I was. Not Robb’s best night.” 

“Nope.” Her brother had known Gendry for most of their lives, but had interrogated him as if he were a stranger and made it clear that if Gendry ever made Arya cry then he’d regret it instantly. “He’s matured since then.” 

“We’ll tell him while his honeymoon is still fresh in his mind and deflect a little.” 

“We will.” Sansa smiled. She’d spoken to Jeyne of _a date_ but it made her happy to hear that Jon also had intentions and hopes and dreams for them beyond their first date. “Besides, Jeyne will be there. He behaves better when she’s around.”

Jon laughed loudly. “You make him sound like a pet dog!”

“He is a bit. All bark and no bite. Harmless, really.”

-

Sansa liked the _Moat Cailin Arms_ from the moment she pulled up outside it. The pub and attendant hotel were on the edge of the historic town, not too far from the ruins that had stood for thousands of years. Perhaps she and Jon could take a walk down there in the morning, before they drove the rest of the way back to Winterfell. At least they were in the North now. Closer to home. 

She recalled the website pictures Jon had shown her at the service station and decided they didn’t do the place justice. The outline of the hotel building was visible from the parking lot, hidden mostly by the pub. It was made of an old style of stone and looked to be several hundred years old. It was friendly and welcoming with a homely look. And Sansa could tell from the noise coming from the pub that it was busy – always a good sign. 

“Check in, dump the luggage and then head for dinner after a quick clean up?” Jon suggested. 

“Sounds good”, said Sansa. She followed him around the side of the pub to a paved patio area where the hotel building stood. The door was open and Sansa could see a smiling middle-aged woman at the reception desk. 

“I called earlier on and booked a double for the night – under Snow”, Jon told the woman, whose badge read _Wylla Fenn, Head Receptionist_.

“Of course.” She looked it up on the computer. “Paying now or in the morning?”

“The morning”, Jon replied. “We’ll have dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow.”

“Very good. Is this the start of your holiday or the end of it?”

“The end. We’ve been at a wedding in the Riverlands”, Sansa told her. 

“Always good to come home after, isn’t it? Back to the North. You can always tell a true Northerner. Here we go. Room 14. That’s at the end of the corridor to the left. Show them your room card down at the pub and they’ll scan it for you, put any drinks and food you have onto the bill automatically. They serve dinner until ten but we can normally manage some sandwiches after if you’re desperate. Breakfast is from six until nine thirty in the morning and your check out is at noon. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you”, said Sansa. She didn’t anticipate being there as late as noon. No, if they got a reasonably early start on the driving then they could be home around lunchtime. 

She and Jon walked down the corridor to find a room that – though far smaller than those either of them had stayed in at _Harrenhal_ – was bright, airy and well appointed. The double bed was large enough for the two of them and there was a bathroom with a shower. There was a sadness in Jon’s voice when he told her it looked like it would only take one person at a time. 

Sansa thought back yet again to that morning and Jon’s soapy hands roaming over every inch of her body, cupping and squeezing her breasts, massaging her ass…….it was indeed a disappointment they would need to shower separately. 

-

“So”, Sansa began as she sipped on the glass of white wine she’d ordered from the bar. “Let’s see these pictures Theon posted.” Arya was far smarter than the average person and Sansa wanted to see for herself how _obvious_ she and Jon were. That would determine how many of her relatives looking through social media tags and hashtags would soon realize something had happened between her and Jon before they’d even gone on their date. 

Jon pulled up Theon’s _Instagram_ on his phone and handed it to Sansa. He had at least posted them in chronological order. Sansa first saw herself in the blue dress she’d worn on Thursday night. She was sat next to Jon and was leaning over to whisper something to him – possibly her thanks for his attempts to prevent Rickon from going overboard with the free drinks. There were another couple of her and Jon joking together, interspersed with those of Robb and Jeyne and a tipsy looking Rickon and some of the WHU friends at his table. 

“We just look like two people having a conversation in those ones”, Sansa pointed out. 

“True. They’re more an appetizer than anything.”

Sansa clicked through some more and found pictures of the top table at the rehearsal dinner. There were quite a few of the table as a whole, in which either Jon or Sansa were gazing longingly in the other’s direction – including one of Sansa’s speech in which Jon was looking up at her with a great deal of affection in his eyes. Theon seemed to have zoomed in on that one. 

What really seemed to be Arya’s tip off was the pictures of the wedding itself – Jon murmuring in her ear while Robb and Jeyne were getting settled for photographs, the look on her face as Jon made his best man speech, the many pictures that featured them dancing together and the way their eyes were boring into each other. Plus Theon seemed to have captured the dance where she’d laid her head on Jon’s shoulder while he held her tightly.

It wasn’t so much that Theon had taken a single picture that indicated something more than mere friendship was afoot, more that it was presented together as pieces of evidence that when put together allowed for two plus two to equal four. 

“It is obvious enough that Arya would see it, but perhaps not enough that Uncle Ed would”, Sansa told Jon, handing back his phone. 

“That’s what I – oh, here comes our food.”

The server set down steaming game stew in front of Jon and a cheeseburger in front of Sansa. She was hungry after driving all day and took a moment to savour the smell of the burger, and the paprika-seasoned fries that came with it. Jon’s game stew – with creamy mashed potatoes and root vegetables – came in a thick gravy and also gave off an aroma that had Sansa’s belly rumbling. 

Sansa sunk her teeth into the burger and could instantly taste the beef, the bun, the seasoning, the cheese. It was cooked just the way she liked it and was heavenly. She thought it a shame that the _Moat Cailin Arms_ was so far away. It would be difficult to justify driving this far just for a _cheeseburger_. “This is _amazing_ ”, she sighed. 

“This is so good”, Jon told her. “The meat is so tender, it’s just falling off my fork and breaking up. They have a good chef here. So good that I’m almost considering _driving_ to Dorne the next time I visit my mother just so I can stop off here on the trip down and back.”

Sansa chuckled. “How long would it take for you to drive to Dorne? In theory?”

“A couple of days? It would only really be worth it if I was going for a month. Anything shorter, I’d feel like I was spending half my holiday driving. The flight is so much easier. It doesn’t even take three hours."

They were mostly silent for the remainder of their meal, which was as delicious as anything Sansa had eaten at _Harrenhal_ over the past five days but cost a fraction of the price. She concentrated on eating – including taking a taste of Jon’s game stew that left her with a little order envy – and taking in the _Moat Cailin Arms_ itself. It appeared as old from the inside as it had when they’d first approached it in Sansa’s car. There were stone walls and wooden beams and it had an old, country feel to it in spite of being located on the edges of a town. 

Jon and Sansa were not the only customers though many of the locals would surely be heading home soon to prepare for the working week. There were families having Sunday dinner, tourists sampling the local fare and a group of older men playing cards at a couple of tables that had been pushed together in the corner. It was still the middle of summer – even if they were in the North – and as afternoon turned to evening the sun still shone through the windows and the humid air entered through the open doors.

“We’re definitely coming back here”, Jon told her when they’d finished eating and were waiting for the server to clear their plates away. 

“ _We_ are, are we?” Sansa asked. She couldn’t deny that she liked how Jon had said _we_ and not _I_.

Jon blushed and threaded his fingers through hers. “I mean, I hope _we_ are. Shit, Sansa, it isn’t too soon or anything?”

“Not too soon. You know, we could even consider this to be our first date, rather than tomorrow night. I don’t mean – I do still want to go out for dinner with you then, but – “

“I’d like that too.”

The server was back then, though, and the young woman gathered their empty plates together before offering a dessert menu.

“Do you have any form of chocolate cake and something with lemon on the menu?” Jon asked her. 

“We do.”

“Then we’ll take a look at it”, he told her. 

Sansa groaned. “I’m full already.” She didn’t want to collapse with a food baby and fall asleep before she and Jon could take advantage of yet another hotel room. It suddenly felt a huge extravagance that the family had paid for her to have that room for five nights and she’d spent three of them in Jon’s bed. 

“We could wait a while before we order.” Jon was leaning back on the bench they were sitting on, his head tilted to the right to look at her. There was something so open and free and attractive in his gaze that Sansa couldn’t help but lean over to kiss him. She didn’t care that they were in public – in a place people were eating their dinner – or that the server would be back soon. Sansa wanted to kiss Jon, and kiss him she did. It was slow and dreamy and Sansa felt it right down to the tips of her toes. 

When she broke away from Jon, she saw that two dessert menus had tactfully been left upon the table. 

“They have lemon cheesecake or lemon meringue pie”, Jon told her. 

“You know me too well to think I’d order anything else.” Sansa was bemused. She looked through the menu anyway, more from curiosity than anything else, and saw it was wide and varied and full of delicious sounding treats. 

“We could get it to take away”, Jon suggested. He looked over at Sansa, his menu lowered. “We could eat it in our room……later.”

“We _could_ ”, Sansa echoed. She finished off the glass of wine she was drinking and saw Jon had almost finished his cider. 

“Have you come to a decision yet?” Sansa almost jumped when the server spoke, so intently had she been looking at Jon’s darkening grey eyes. 

“Could we have one chocolate fudge cake, please, and one – “

“One lemon cheesecake, please”, Sansa added. 

“And can we take it to go, along with a bottle of Arbor Gold?” The server smiled when Jon asked and nodded. She took his room card again, pressed it against the tablet she carried, and tapped a few keys. 

“It’ll be five to ten minutes”, she told them. 

“I’m really, really, really pleased _you_ were my date for this weekend and not some blind date Alys or Beth or anyone else had set up for me or a guy I’d only been out for dinner with a handful of times. I’ve – yes, it was stressful with the wedding and everything, but I had a great time this weekend. And while my family, particularly those I don’t get to see very often, was a huge part of that……so were you.”

“That pretty much sums up my thinking”, Jon told her. He leaned over and kissed Sansa softly, before wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her into his chest. “This just – I don’t remember any time before everything has just fallen into place and felt so – so _right_.”

Sansa stayed there, quite happily, in Jon’s arms until the server returned with a package containing their desserts and a bottle of wine, along with a chilling case and two glasses. “Enjoy your evening”, she told them. 

Sansa _intended to_. Sansa intended to enjoy her evening _very much_.

When they got back to the room, they set everything down on the desk underneath their wall-mounted TV and closed the blinds. Jon switched on the two bedside lamps and sat on the bed, his hands on her waist. 

“So, remind me where we were this morning?” Jon murmured, moving his mouth closer to Sansa’s. She grinned and climbed into his lap. 

“I remember wearing fewer clothes.”

“Aye, that sounds about right”, Jon replied. She could feel his smile when he kissed her and sunk into it. Her lemon cheesecake was already half-forgotten as Jon’s hand moved under her sundress and up her inner thigh towards the black panties she’d chosen. Unlike Jon, Sansa decided that dessert could wait until the morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, Jon decided to buy the house with renovation potential. He stayed with Sansa - not Arya - while the work was done, and she moved in with him over the Christmas break. 
> 
> They got engaged several months later, just before Sansa started an Anthropology course at Winterfell U. Their engagement announcement was made on the same day Robb and Jeyne revealed they were expecting their first child. Recalling the stress of Robb and Jeyne's wedding, they married exactly a year after Sansa moved in with Jon, in Winterfell's main godswood where Lyanna had wed Arthur years earlier, with fewer than fifty guests in attendance.


End file.
